Il Mio Canto Libero
by fickleAdoxograph
Summary: Other than cooking dishes and brewing coffee in the small restaurant that he works in, Lovino Vargas spends most of his time daydreaming about the adventures and experiences he craves to encounter someday. It seems as if he'll be stuck in this life of tiring routines forever, until he makes the mistake of conversing with a foreign customer who proves himself able to change it all.
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia or any of its characters._

_**Couple(s):** SpaMano, GerIta (side-pairing)  
**Rating:** T (will go up to M later on, but right now it's pretty mild)  
**Categories:** Romance, Adventure, Hurt/Comfort, Family_

_AN: Hello! Here's a another contribution to the Hetalia fandom from my side. However, this is far from another one-shot. This is a long one, around 20 chapters or so, I reckon. I'm excited! I haven't ever written anything truly serious like this, and I am very afraid to mess it up. Hopefully I'll do all right and entertain you all. Can't ask for too much when it is my first multichaptered fic since I was ten and wrote shitty Titanic fanfics. -shudder- I don't want to remember that time._

* * *

Cussing, hitting, turning at the radio, Lovino was vainly trying to find a radio station to drown out the growing noise from the customers outside. After working at the small restaurant with his brother - Feliciano - for quite a while now, he was far from unused to the laughing and chatting, but that did not mean it couldn't still bother him.

"One pasta alá Arrabiata!" Feliciano announced, leaning into the kitchen and placing a small note with the order on the counter.

"Got it!" Lovino hollered back, leaving the radio blasting Italian folk songs while he turned the stove on and filled a saucepan with water.

Working here was fine by him. It was calm and didn't exhaust him too badly, and yet there was still enough customers to keep him going and get them the money they needed. Sometimes Lovino would be a bit bored though. Feliciano was outside, chatting and bonding with the people that came by; Lovino was stuck inside with an old radio and the smell of pasta. He was not as sociably skilled as his brother (even though he did have his way with the ladies), so even if they would try and switch places in order to get some change into their daily life, he knew he would feel awkward out there.

Lovino placed a wooden cutting board on the counter, turned around and went to get some tomatoes. He ran some cold water over them, his mind wandering off, imagining if it would always be like it was now. Would they work in this restaurant until they were old? Would they never leave this place? It seemed as if Feliciano was content with being here, and Lovino never complained, but the truth was that he'd much rather get out there and travel the world. He was not really the sort of person who would just leave this all behind and actually do it though, no matter how much he wished he was. He could see his future clearly though, if he did stay here: Feliciano would eventually manage to flirt his way into the heart of a customer, enough for them to actually start dating, and not just give her a free meal and then never meet her again like usually (a lot of girls were flattered by Feliciano's charms; however he'd never had a serious relationship with any of them, it seemed.) It wouldn't take long for them to marry and have children who could take over the restaurant, and maybe then Lovino could lay back and be the grumpy old man he sort of longed to be. Old grumpy men were left alone. They were excused, no matter how mean they were, as nobody really cared anyway. They were respected but still ignored. It didn't sound tempting to anyone's ear, but Lovino thought it must be relaxing in a way. It sounded better than working his ass off, alone in this small kitchen. And he just knew that Feliciano would be the one to pass the family name on, since Lovino never got to meet any new people.

He started slicing the tomatoes, still lost in his thoughts, humming along with the song the radio was currently playing, as he recognised it from when he was little.

He was a nice cook. Not the best one one had ever seen, but he was good enough. It happened too often that he'd burn something or drop it on the floor though, just because he was clumsy. As often, Feliciano would get the order wrong or stop to chat with people when serving, letting the food turn cold and the customer left hungry. So, they weren't really the best suited for this business, but they still had a lot of regular customers, and they got new ones as well almost every day.

People knew that in this place things went wrong because there were two young, unprofessional Italians working by themselves, but it was also lovely. The food was great when everything went right, and they got to talk to the friendly younger Italian, who seemed to bring everyone's mood up. It also had a very nice atmosphere, and though there were lots of better restaurants in the area, neither Lovino nor Feliciano had ever heard someone actually complain about their service.

"One Pasta Carbonara!" Feliciano's voice broke Lovino from his daydreaming. He turned his head and nodded at his younger brother who, as always, was wearing a huge smile, while placing the little note with the order on the counter.

Lovino removed the frying pan from the stove and went on to put the tomatoes, parsley, lemon and the pasta into boiling water, stirring it.

After putting it all on a plate and doing the final touches with vinegar and spices, he placed the dish on the counter and immediately started with the next order.

Before they accepted the suggestion of working here, it had been their grandfather - Roma - who ran the place with a German friend of his. But when he was left to work alone, and time wore on, he had immediately thrown the chance at his grandsons when they were of age, saying that they needed work and he needed rest. Both Lovino and Feliciano had said yes without much hesitation, as it seemed like a simple task. They lived just upstairs, so the distance from home to work was a rather convenient one.

Lovino recalled old memories of once asking if Feliciano had some friend that could work here instead of himself, since he wanted to get out. It did not work out too well however. His brother had a lot of friends, yes, and several of them had the skills and probably the will to work here, but Feliciano had said that he'd rather have his brother with him. On top of that, Roma had overheard their conversation, stating that he only wanted family to work in his beloved restaurant. Lovino had not tried much since then, figuring that sometime, maybe he'd be able to at least get a break and get permission to travel. Just for a period of time, to later come back home and work again. If he played his cards right, surely his grandfather would allow it. Finding someone to work instead of him for a few weeks shouldn't be so hard, so that would not be an issue, he was sure.

"Feli! The Pasta Carbonara is ready!" He shouted at the younger Italian, a bit surprised that his brother had already come and gone with the finished Arriabata, despite the fact that Lovino had forgotten to call out for him in all his daydreaming. Although this time, when Feliciano didn't show up immediately like he used to, Lovino got a bit confused. "Feli!" He raised his voice again, but his brother still wouldn't show up. Lovino sighed. "Am I gonna have to cook _and _serve from now on?" he asked himself sarcastically.

Lovino took the plate in his hands and walked outside with firm steps and knitted eyebrows. He spotted Feliciano in a deep conversation with a customer. Walking up to him with quick steps, he grabbed a rolled up news paper, hitting his younger brother's head with it.

"Ouch! Lovino, why are you so violent, I didn't-" Feliciano started, rubbing the back of his head and turning around to look at his brother, who stood with the pasta raised high on its plate in Lovino's hand. "Oh, the food is done? Why didn't you say something, Lovi?" A smile spread across his face as he stood up, taking the plate from his brother's hand.

"I did - twice!" Lovino informed him matter-of-factly, palms resting on his hips.

Feliciano laughed sheepishly. "I'm sorry, Lovino, I didn't hear you. Antonio was telling me about Spain! It's a really cool country, Lovi, we should go there sometime! Did you know that they have bullfighting there? Isn't that cool?" Feliciano rambled on.

Lovino squinted his eyes. "Who the hell is Antonio?" He asked, and his brother motioned a hand towards the tanned, tall man sitting by the table, waving and smiling at Lovino.

Lovino sighed. "Feli, you're spending too much time chatting with strangers! You should be doing your job!" He hissed at his brother, not trying very hard to hide his frustration at all.

"I am sorry to interrupt, but it was my fault," said Antonio, his Italian thick with accent, but still understandable. He stood and scratched his neck with a polite smile, "I, uhm... I started talking to him and-"

"Whatever. He should learn how to _stop _talking." Lovino interrupted him, hitting his brother with the news paper again. Feliciano winced and gave his brother an apologetic look.

"No really, I-" Antonio started, but was yet again interrupted by the older Italian.

"It's fine. Whatever. Here, have your food." He said, taking the plate from Feliciano and placing it on the table. "Anything else?" He asked and pushed his brother away, motioning a hand towards another customer, telling Feliciano to get their orders.

Antonio tilted his head and locked his narrowed eyes at Lovino. "A smile, maybe?" He said, making Lovino's face turn hot - preferably because he was getting angry. With his usual frown plastered on his face, Lovino scoffed, his eyes darting around a bit nervously.

"What?"

Lovino noticed how piercingly emerald the Spaniard's eyes were, and was almost surprised as one of them closed in a sudden wink. The charming gesture brought the blooming of his cheeks back. "Don't be so harsh on your brother, he was just being friendly with a customer, you know." Antonio said and sat down. Reluctantly, Lovino sat as well, opposite him.

"You don't have any right to tell me what to do." He argued, crossing his arms. Who was this guy anyway? Lovino could not recall seeing him here before. In all honesty, he did not wish for him to return either, as the older Italian had quickly decided not to like him. It'd be exhausting having to act nice around him, since he knew it was mandatory to be kind to the guests. Roma had reminded him of that enough already.

"Ah, I'm not telling you what to do," Antonio said, leaning his head in one of his hands, "it's just an advice. I just think you could be nicer." He shrugged.

Lovino stared at him, annoyance clear in his eyes. "Whatever." He said, standing up to walk back to the kitchen.

"The customer is always right, you know!" Antonio hollered after him as he disappeared into the other room.

* * *

After they had closed, Lovino and Feliciano was quick to clean up, both being a bit tired and wanting to get to bed as soon as possible. As Lovino was sweeping the floors, he noticed the unfamiliar melody his brother was humming.

It sometimes annoyed him how his sibling would always hum or whistle while they were cleaning up. Lately he had started to get used to it though, as it was always songs he could recognise and hum along to.

"What the hell is that?" He finally said, holding the broom firmly in his hands.

Feliciano looked up from rearranging some flowers in a vase. "What is what?" He bit his lip warily, a sheepish expression plastered upon his face.

"That song you're singing, what is it?"

"Oh!" Feliciano's face lit up, "It's a Spanish song. Antonio sung it to me before!" His voice was filled with pride. Knowing a foreign song (that was not a common, English one) seemed to be something he could brag about a whole lot from now on. If Lovino knew his brother right, he could be sure in saying that the boy would ask Antonio to teach him more songs if he came over again. Lovino really hoped that would not happen.

The latter raised his eyebrows and scoffed. "You mean that bastard who didn't get his order?" He asked, sounding as if he wasn't already sure about who the person in question was.

"But he _did _get his order!" Feliciano chirped.

With a dismissive wave of his hand, Lovino said, "Just sing something else, will you?"

Feliciano tilted his head slightly. "What's wrong with Spanish songs?" He asked, almost sounding a little hurt. Lovino looked down and started sweeping again.

"There's nothing wrong with Spanish _songs_, just that Spanish _guy_..." He mumbled, half hoping his brother wouldn't detect his words.

"You don't like Antonio, Lovino?"

No such luck.

"No. He's annoying. Just like you." Lovino said and walked back to put the broom away. Feliciano walked after him, grabbing his hands and looking at him with pleading eyes.

"You're not saying you don't like me, are you?" He asked with a shaky voice. Lovino looked at him and sighed. Sure, Feliciano was not so dense to actually not realise that his brother was just annoyed (they had lived together for quite a few years, after all), but he always had to make sure. You never knew when it came to Lovino, he had said once, because he seemed to be able to change his opinion on somebody by simply deciding to. If he suddenly did not want to like Feliciano, then he wouldn't.

"You're annoying in a different way, Feliciano. You're my brother." Lovino explained and patted the boy's head. A tiny, relieved smile traced the younger's features.

"So you _do _like me?" He craved confirmation, his voice filled with hope.

"I don't really have any other choice." Lovino shrugged one of his shoulders, grunting in annoyance as his brother's thin but firm arms wrapped around him.

"Ah! Good! I was worried there for a second," he laughed, "but that's good! I like you too, Lovino!"

"Yeah, yeah. Just stop cuddling me, damn it!" He pushed his younger brother away and walked into the kitchen to turn the lights off. Feliciano giggled slightly and walked up the stairs, soon followed by Lovino.

"I really think you should try and talk to Antonio again though, Lovino! I bet you'd like each other if you tried." Feliciano cooed, looking down at his brother, who met his gaze with angry eyes. As if Lovino didn't have enough troubles getting the damn Spaniard off his mind already, Feliciano _had _to bring it up again.

"Stop talking about that idiot!" He said, pushing past his brother up the stairs, quickly walking into their shared bedroom. Having his own room was often something he wished for. But in the small place they lived, there really wasn't much he could do about it.

"But Lovino! Just listen to me-"

"No, just lay off about that jerk, will you? You've only _just _met him, anyway!"

Feliciano smiled and opened his drawer, pulling his pajama-pants out. "Ah, but he's really nice, you know!"

Lovino refrained from answering this time. His brother would always do this. If it was something Lovino did not want to make conversation about, Feliciano would go on about just that even more, only because he held tight to annoying habits like that since they were little and he found it fun to make his brother angry, for the thrill of being chased around (even though it always ended with Lovino catching him, pinning him to the floor and pulling his hair until he cried and apologised.)

Lovino changed clothes and walked into the bathroom to brush his teeth, joined by his brother after a few seconds. He hoped Antonio would not come back tomorrow, or any other day for that matter. This was what happened when he actually _did _talk to a customer. Maybe he should just stay in the kitchen after all, he thought, spitting the foam into the sink and rinsing his mouth with water. He walked back into their room and crawled into bed, letting out a soft sigh.

Feliciano came inside soon after, turning the lights off and hurrying to his own bed, whispering a quiet "goodnight!" to his brother and dozing off quickly.

* * *

The next day started as any other. After getting ready and opening the restaurant, customers started to slowly occupy the chairs until it was crowded inside the dining hall. Lovino had peeked out of the kitchen almost every time he heard the doorbell, but hadn't seen any trace of Antonio, which made him happy. He knew not why he cared so much though, it was not as if he would have to _meet _the guy again. But just thinking about him being there made Lovino bitter.

Today was more stressful than it had been yesterday. There were more people and more orders and Lovino could sense that even his happy-go-lucky little brother was setting into a worried, stressed and almost bad mood (which didn't happen that often.)

"One Pizza Margherita!" Feliciano shouted and placed what seemed like the hundredth note on the counter.

"G-Got it.." Lovino mumbled to himself, rushing with stirring pasta, cutting vegetables and brewing coffee, all at the same time. He knew why there were so many customers today: it was the weather. Today the sun seemed to be pointing all it's power exclusively towards their city, and whenever it was too hot, the people who came by didn't want to sit by the tables outside. A lot of people usually sat there when the weather wasn't as exhausting as today, and they didn't order anything, except maybe a drink or some coffee. When they came inside for a change however, they were always tempted by the spicy smells and suddenly everyone was craving Italian dishes, which put the brothers in stressed positions like today. Lovino could always console himself with the fact that they'd get a lot of extra payment today. That was always a good thing.

After a few hours, the loud chatter started to fade out and Lovino realised that people had started to pour out of their little restaurant. He looked at the clock. _"It's later than I thought, I guess the sun's already setting..." _He thought to himself.

"One caffè Macchiato!" Feliciano's voice told him loudly, and Lovino smiled. This was one of his favorite things to make. Caffè Macchiato was generally just espresso coffee stained with milk. He got to make complicated patterns or objects with the milk, and considered it a form of art. It was difficult though, and in the beginning they had to remove the drink from their menu, having Roma teach Lovino how to make it before they could have anyone order it, since he never got it right at first. He was used to it now though, and it went quickly; although he messed it up a few rare times and had to try again.

This time it went by smoothly however, and a proud grin spread across his lips as he placed the cup on the counter and called for Feliciano.

"You're getting good at this!" His brother complimented as he left another note on the counter, "oh, and somebody ordered a Pasta Carbonara, by the way!"

"Got it." Lovino nodded and turned around to bring out a large sauce pan and fill it with water. He put it on the stove to boil and took out pasta and salt, waiting for the water to get ready. Getting momentarily lost in his thoughts, it seemed to take merely seconds before the water was boiling and he was broken from his daydreaming by a voice that – oddly enough – _wasn't _his brother's.

"Did you make this?"

Lovino turned around to see Antonio standing there, leaning in over the counter, holding the caffè Macchiato that Lovino had just made and was oh so proud of.

_"Great, I _almost _made it through the day..." _He thought, deciding to at least _try _being nice. This guy was still a customer after all. Lovino nodded towards him. "Yes, I did."

Antonio smiled and looked down at the cup. "It's really impressive!" He noted.

"Thank you." Lovino answered and turned back to put the pasta in the boiling water.

Antonio watched him for a while before letting his voice fill the hollow silence between them. "It's too hot to drink now, so I'm waiting for it to cool down a bit." He explained, even though Lovino had not asked.

"Um..." The Italian began quietly, "all right."

Antonio nodded and smiled widely, seemingly unable to detect Lovino's uninterest in him. "What are you making?"

Turning his head to look at the cheerful man awaiting an answer, Lovino let out a sigh and decided that while he could keep himself to being polite, he still had to set boundaries to this guy. He would not let him think that there was any chance of them getting to know each other. Not when Lovino disliked him as much as he did, and especially not on a stressful day like this one. "I'm sorry, but I'm trying to work here."

Antonio stood up straight and put his hands up in defense. "Ah, sorry!" He said and laughed softly, "You're not making Pasta Carbonara though, are you?"

Lovino knitted his eyebrows in confusion. "Why?" He asked.

There was a shrug of the Spaniard's shoulders, "That's the dish I had yesterday," he explained, "I think you could improve it a bit." His remark was blunt, making Lovino turn around to gave him an extra exasperated look.

"Excuse me?" The Italian said, his voice barely hiding his irritation. He felt somewhat confused, offended. It was one thing to come over and bother Lovino as if he would enjoy smalltalking to a foreign idiot, but thinking that the Italian would accept him criticising his cooking like this was not acceptable.

Antonio smiled teasingly. "Hey, you're rude to me, I'm rude to you." He walked over to the kitchen door and entered the room.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, you idiot?" Lovino asked, pouring some salt into the sauce pan. Antonio walked up to the sink and started washing his hands.

"I'm going to help you with that." He said, earning a frown from the Italian.

"No way." Lovino said simply, but Antonio ignored him and simply turned around to dry his hands on a towel. "No way!" He repeated himself.

"Why not?" Antonio gave him a sullen look.

"You don't fucking work here! _I _work here, let me do my job!" Lovino spat.

Antonio laughed at his stubbornness. "What cheese did you use when you made the dish? Did you use regular cheese?"

"W-Well... Yeah?" Lovino looked uncertain, where was this Spanish moron going with this, anyway? He'd better have a damn good reason for being such a pain in the ass.

Antonio shook his head slowly and smacked his tongue. "I knew it." He said and poked Lovino playfully on the nose. "It didn't taste _bad_, you know. But I know something that would make it even better!" He walked across the small kitchen. "Do you have Romano cheese?"

"I think so." Lovino answered pensively.

"Why don't you use that instead?"

The young Italian stayed still without a word for a moment before a snort escaped him. "Why would I?"

Antonio came back with the cheese in his hand, placing it on the counter. "Because that's what you use when you make Pasta Carbonara." He stated, smiling kindly at Lovino. His upwards-pointing lips had no affect on Lovino right now what so ever, though. "You are an Italian chef, shouldn't you know that?" He teased, winking at the younger boy who blushed slightly. He would like to blame the fact that he had tried to learn all the recipes at once, and God forbid, he _may _have gotten a few things wrong. Like what cheese to use for a certain dish, for example.

"Whatever," He said and looked away from the Spaniard, "it's very rude of you to come in here and tell me how to cook."

Antonio folded his arms. "I know. I'm sorry. But I just figured it would be okay since I'm your friend."

Lovino shot him a glare. "What makes you think we're friends?"

The Spaniard shrugged his shoulders. "Um... Well, at least I am _Feliciano's _friend."

"That doesn't make it okay."

Antonio stood quiet for a while, looking as if he tried to think of another reason. "Then, I apologise. But just try it, it will taste much better." He smiled amicably and walked out of the kitchen, grabbing his cup of caffè Macchiato before leaving Lovino with a foul mood and a pair of red cheeks.

* * *

_AN: That was the cheesiest (pun intended oh god) thing I have ever written, truly. Please don't hate me for it. _Someone_ had to make a joke about it though._

_Hope you enjoyed nevertheless!_


	2. Chapter 2

A temporary wave of happiness drowned Lovino's tired mind as he woke up, realising what day it was. Sunday, which meant no work. He always slept in a little later during Sundays, and this one was no exception. He still had to get out at a fairly reasonable hour either way, though, to go grocery shopping at the marketplace.

After waking up at ten, he stayed in bed, slowly stretching and turning comfortably for another hour before finally forcing himself up. He saw his brother still sleeping in his own bed, and mentally noted that he would've tried his best not to wake him up if it wasn't for the fact that it was _Feliciano_, nothing could wake _him _up. Not Lovino knocking over a bookshelf, not Roma singing loudly, not slamming of doors or a TV at full volume. Lovino on the other hand, woke up from the smallest things. It could be a bird outside the window or his brother snoring.

The Italian's stomach growled viciously as he quickly changed clothes and headed out of the bedroom, almost bumping into Roma on the way.

"Lovino, you're up early today!" The older man said in surprise and flashed his grandson a tired smile.

Lovino nodded affirmatively. "Yeah, I thought I'd go to the marketplace and get us some breakfast." His words slipped hurriedly as he made his way down the stairs, shouting a goodbye to Roma as he grabbed Feliciano's wallet that was carelessly lying on a table in the restaurant. "Stupid." He mumbled, aiming his word at his brother, and shoved the wallet into his pocket.

It was sunny - as always, but not as steaming as yesterday, which was pleasing to Lovino's sensitive skin. He'd lived all his life in warm Italy but was somehow still a bit unused to the heat. His skin was a pale olive tint, compared to his brother who was simply pale tanned. Lovino did not exactly mind his own colours, but he found it wouldn't hurt for either of them to get a bit darker. They did live in a very warm and sunny country after all. Roma was a whole lot tanner than they were, making his oldest grandson a little jealous.

"Lovino!" Said person heard his brother's voice shout after him, and he turned around to see Feliciano running towards him with worry in his eyes and messy hair.

"Feli? Why are you up now?" Lovino asked, a wrinkle forming between his brows. His brother always used their days off to sleep in. He could barely recall any rare times he had actually slept in later than Feliciano. Perhaps it had occurred once or twice when Lovino had been sick, or something of the like.

"I wanted to follow you to the marketplace! Grandpa Roma said that you were going now."

Lovino nodded his head once. He turned back, continuing his steady pace, Feliciano by his side.

"You have money with you, Lovi? I couldn't find my wallet!" Feliciano tugged at his sleeve.

"That's because I took it. You shouldn't let it lie around like that, idiot!" The older Vargas shook his head as he scolded his brother, pulling his arm loose from the weak grip he had of it.

Feliciano waved a hand dismissively, indicating that it was not really a big deal, according to him. "Why not?"

"Because anyone could just... take it from you," He brought it up from his pocket, waving it in front of Feliciano, "like I did."

"Ah, I'm sorry, Lovino.."

Lovino put it back and shook his head slowly. "Never mind. Just be more careful."

"Yes! I will!" The younger declared, offering an amicable smile at his older brother.

When they arrived at the marketplace, it did not take long before Feliciano was chasing after pretty girls or making conversation with the salesmen, while Lovino tried to concentrate on what to buy.

They sold all kinds of stuff here, not just food; but jewelry, clothes, clocks, books and flowers. This was also where they'd go to buy paintbrushes and paper for Feliciano.

It was loud and lively here, and there seemed to be even more tourists than there were actual Italians. Lovino could hear people speaking English, Spanish, German, French and some various Asian languages as well. It amazed him a bit. He was also proud to be part of this beautiful country that so many people came to visit.

"Why did I have to be stupid enough not to bring a basket or something..." Lovino muttered to himself, trying to carry all the things he'd bought. He held several plastic bags filled with eggs, bread and other ingedients he would need to make breakfast. Lovino managed to fish some money out of his pocket and hand to the salesman after buying a package of juice. He did not, however, manage to pick the juice up and carry it. "Damn it, where is Feliciano when you need him?" He hissed and looked around for his brother. Just then, his brother appeared beside him as if on cue, and not alone.

"Lovino! Guess what!" He chirped excitedly.

"Not now, Feli! Carry the juice carton for me, will you?" He demanded and nodded his head towards it. Feliciano picked it up and held it close to his body, talking eagerly at the same time.

"Ah, Lovi, guess what!"

Lovino rolled his eyes and looked at the short guy standing beside his brother. He had straight, black hair, almost hanging over his dark brown eyes, and his face didn't reveal many emotions. Maybe a bit awkwardness, if anything. Lovino quickly recognised him as the Japanese friend of his little brother. He had only seen him once before but never spoken to him, even though Feliciano mentioned him pretty often.

"What, damn it?" Lovino said angrily to Feliciano, who didn't seem to be affected what so ever.

"No, no, _no-o__!_" He ticked a finger side to side in front of Lovino's frowning face. "I said to _guess_!"

Lovino turned to start walking home, not being very much up to his brother's silly games at the moment. Feliciano took a hold of his arm however, wanting him to stay. "O-Okay then, Lovi! I'll tell you!" He gave in, and Lovino turned back towards him. "You know Kiku, right?" He looked at his short friend. Lovino shook his head, though Feliciano did not bother to give him a proper introduction. "Well, he invited us to a party next Friday!" Feliciano announced, beaming with enthusiasm, and being considerate enough to switch to English for Kiku's sake.

Lovino raised his eyebrows. "A party?"

"Eh," Kiku spoke up, putting his hands up in front of his chest, "I never said it was a party!" He looked at Feliciano. Lovino was quick to notice his very accented English, which was almost entertaining to listen to.

"Well, the way you described it sounded like a party!"

"Are you the host?" Lovino asked him. Kiku shook his head.

"No, it's just a small event down by the big lake, anyone can come," He explained, "so there's not really a host or anything."

Lovino nodded and cleared his throat. "Well, we'll be working at the restaurant on Friday, so we can't come." His tone was stern, making his statement sound non negotiable.

"It's after we've closed the restaurant, it's fine!" Feliciano exclaimed, almost jumping up and down, already excited.

"It is going to be at nine, and Feliciano said you closed down by five on Fridays." The foreigner said.

"Oh... Well... I guess," Lovino spoke uncertainly. It seemed as if there weren't many excuses that would give him the luck of not having to attend the event, much to his dismay.

"Please! Oh, please, Lovi! It will be fun!" Feliciano hugged his arm.

"_You _can go, Feli, you don't need my permission." He said, trying to shake his brother off of him.

"But I want you to come as well, and I know you won't agree to it unless I beg for a while!" He said, obviously speaking from experience. Lovino rolled his eyes at him. It was still early and he was too tired to argue.

"I'll think about it." He finally said, causing Feliciano to make a little squeal of joy.

"Thank you!" He turned to Kiku, "Ah, we have to go home now, grandpa Roma is waiting. We'll see you at Friday!" He waved as Lovino dragged him away by the arm.

When they got home, Roma was already sitting downstairs, qietly drinking a cup of coffee and reading the news paper.

"Good morning, boys! Did everything go all right at the marketplace?" He asked as soon as his grandchildren walked inside the door, his eyes not once leaving the paper in front of him.

"Yes!" Feliciano chirped, "Kiku was there, he invited me and Lovino to a party-thing this Friday!"

Roma looked up from the paper with a smile. "Oh? What _party-thing_ is that?"

Ignoring their conversation, Lovino took his shoes and jacket off, retreating to the kitchen.

"Hm... I don't really know... But it sounded like a lot of fun!" Feliciano shrugged, seating himself beside his grandfather.

Their grandpa chuckled and put the paper away, stretching a hand out to pat Feliciano's head. "And when does it start?" He asked kindly, looking past Feliciano's lack of knowledge of Friday's event. Lovino could hear them from the kitchen, rolling his eyes slightly at Roma's ignorance towards it. He sometimes wondered how he could have ended up so different from his brother. They were only two years apart, after all. Still, Feliciano was the happy-go-lucky, overly cheerful and carefree younger brother, with a talent in creating masterpieces with his paintbrush. Lovino on the other hand, was a bit more cautious. He had been told that he was more stubborn and grumpy and uptight, which weren't really very nice comments to hear about oneself. On the other hand, he knew that he was really good with cooking, unlike his brother. While Lovino had his regular job here at the restaurant, making various Italian dishes and brewing coffee; Feliciano could make Pasta Carbonara and Bolognese, which was about it.

Although, Lovino shared a personality trait with his brother that did make him feel as if they actually were related (something you could not always guess, if it wasn't for their striking resemblance on the outside), though it was not one he was overly proud of.

Their fear. While they could both be bold when they wanted to, they had a thing for chickening out when something was too frightening. And they both often ended up crying. Ever since they were kids, this was how it had been. And Lovino knew that he was not the only one who wished that they were both a bit more brave and spontaneous; though he kind of liked to live by the old saying, 'better safe than sorry'. It had worked well enough for him so far.

"Oh... I don't really remember..." Feliciano tapped his chin with a finger and looked down, brows furrowed.

"It's at nine," Lovino hollered from the kitchen, unable to keep himself from adding to the conversation. Sometimes these things really bothered him. At least he was more observant than his brother, something he found was a good attribute of his.

Roma nodded. "Ah, well good. The restaurant will be closed by then." He stood up and lifted his coffee cup. "But don't be out too late, boys!" He said and walked into the kitchen, putting the cup in the sink.

They ate breakfast like any other day. Feliciano kept talking while Roma laughed and told him not to speak with his mouth full. Lovino kept rolling his eyes in annoyance, but was secretly enjoying the company. He thought it was rather nice, after all. There wasn't a second when he didn't think his brother was an idiot, but he still respected him, in a way. When they were little they always got along fine. At least when they didn't decide on getting on the other's nerves, which did happen pretty often. They liked to compare who got the most Christmas gifts, who grew tallest, or – when they got a bit older – who had the most facial and/or body hair. They'd tease each other over nothing, pinch each other or pull each other's hair when bored, come up with stupid nicknames and hide each other's toys all the time. But still, they'd always been there for each other. Lovino had not been that good at making friends, unlike Feliciano. He usually never minded, though, since he could always hang out with his brother. If Lovino at any time _didn't _want to be in his brother's presence, Feliciano always fretted over it. He seemed a bit desperate to always have the older Vargas by his side. Lovino never understood why. He decided that it was probably because Feliciano hated to be alone, and he was comfortable and apparently very dependant on Lovino. Because he told himself it couldn't be that he actually _enjoyed _Lovino's company. They always fought. They supported each other and what not, but they weren't a match made in heaven. Surely, Feliciano must think he was a drag, after all? He'd never speak that out loud of course, since it was unpolite and they were, despite it all, brothers.

Lovino wouldn't hesitate to admit that he thought of his younger brother as a pain in the ass. But he was also a bit entertaining. There was never an awkward silence or lack of something to do when with him. His imagination was wide and he was indeed talkative. He was usually the main reason for why they often got into troubles when they were young. It was always his ideas, although he was also often too scared to do it (at least alone). But Lovino was always up for it, and made it happen. Their grandfather always caught them though, and Lovino somehow ended up being blamed for most of it.

After they were finished eating, Lovino was sitting alone with Roma by the table, while Feliciano had gone upstairs to do some painting.

He had fallen in a long discussion with his grandpa, something that rarely happened. For some reason, they never really spoke much. It was just the casual "Good morning" or "I'm going out for a while". Lovino thought it was nice to finally have a real conversation; he loved his grandpa, he looked up to him.

After making their way through several subjects, they somehow ended up talking about traveling, and Lovino's cravings to do so.

The older man nodded and bit the inside of his cheek, while looking down as Lovino spoke.

"I don't know exactly where I would like to go..." He said, "I just know I want to leave Italy for a little while. See some other places."

"Do you not like it here?" His grandfather asked, a hint of worry in his voice.

"I never said that," He leaned his elbows on the table, "but I've never been anywere else than here. I don't think I've ever left this place."

Roma thought for a while. "What about that time I took you to San Marino?"

Lovino waved his hand dismissively. "Still haven't been _outside _of Italy!"

Roma nodded and sat back. "Well, you're still nineteen, Lovino. You have a long life ahead of you!" The older man smiled. Lovino didn't get why he was so keen on keeping him here though.

He spoke up again. "Look, it's not like I'm never going to let you go somewhere," Oh? "But I'm just a bit worried to let you go by yourself." Well there you go. Lovino frowned a bit.

"What, you think I couldn't handle that?"

Roma laughed a bit and shook his head. "It's not that. I'm sure you would, Lovino. But if anything would happen while you're all alone in an unfamiliar country-"

"Yeah, yeah. I get it." Lovino looked away. He understood that his grandpa would be a bit nervous about it. Any parent (or in this case – grandparent) would. But it still frustrated Lovino just a bit. Did he not deserve at least _some _freedom?

Lovino let out a tired sigh. "But do you think you'd let me go sometime this year?"

Roma smiled kindly at him. "Probably. We'll see." He said, making Lovino roll his eyes slightly, detecting a false promise.

"You know, I'm over eighteen, so technically I can do whatever I want."

Roma smiled weakly. They both knew that no matter how old he was, it was duty to take care of the restaurant with his brother, unless he found someone else to do that. Which, of course, was already out of the question. This was like an unwritten rule. Never before uttered about verbally, but still in the back of their minds. Lovino had taken on the responsibility to be here.

The young Italian sighed and spoke again, his gaze low. "How far would you let me go?"

The older man put a hand on his chin. "Hmm..." He hummed thoughtfully. "Well, I don't know where you _want _to go."

Lovino shrugged. "Anywhere. Just... Away from here."

Roma furrowed his brows. "You're making it sound as if you really don't like it here."

He _did _like it here. But he was smothered. He was a little trapped. Lovino just wanted to be a bit... Experienced. "I never said that," He argued, "but you don't know how it is, you've already been everywhere!"

They both knew how that sentence was truthful. Roma had traveled a lot when he was young. Both Lovino and Feliciano used to love listening to his adventurous - and doubtfully entirely true - tales of his encounters in various nations, such as Greece, Spain, France, Germany, Russia...

A guilty silence fell over the room for a few seconds. "Feliciano doesn't seem bothered by being here-"

"Well, I'm not Feliciano, all right?" Lovino snapped. He didn't mean to get angry. Well... At least he didn't mean to show it.

"I know that. Don't be stupid now, Lovino. You always act as if I'm comparing the two of you." He raised his voice just a little.

"Aren't you?" Lovino said cockily, but immediately regretted it. His grandfather was a sweet man, but he could be strict, and didn't like it when people talked back to him in such a tone. Sometimes Lovino wondered if he'd gotten his easily irritated mood from his grandpa.

But Roma kept quiet. Lovino was unsure whether or not it was a good sign, but the silence was piercing through him, and he started to wonder if he should be expecting an outburst, or if Roma was just hurt.

The older man squinted his eyes for a moment, and then looked away. "Is that what you think? Does it seem like it?"

Lovino hesitated, avoiding his grandfather's eyes warily before shrugging his shoulders.

"I-I don't know... Maybe... Sometimes." He said quietly. Secretly, he _had _always felt a bit like he was in the shadow of Feliciano. He never understood why, but he did. As if his brother was better, more loved. Which he probably was, Lovino thought. He could see the logic in that.

Roma shook his head slowly. "Oh, Lovino. That is not how it is. I would never favour any of you."

Lovino did not answer, so he decided to speak again. "I am never comparing you. I see your differences, and I am sure you do as well, but I love you equally much. You are my grandsons, for God's sake!"

After a few seconds had passed, Lovino stood up. "I'm going to see what Feli's doing." He informed, even though his brother had announced just what he'd be doing just before he left, and painting could sometimes take a whole day if he had that time. He just seemed to get so captured by it. So lost in it. It was obviously a very strong passion of his.

Roma only sighed quietly as Lovino walked out of the room and upstairs.

* * *

"Hey, Feli? What are you doing?" Lovino's voice sounded weakly as he walked inside their room. His brother was standing by his easel, a long from finished vase of flowers appearing with the strokes of his brush.

Feliciano looked up, smiling as his eyes met with his brother's. "Oh, I'm painting! Do you like it?" He pointed to the canvas. Lovino forced a small smile.

"It's nice," He nodded, "as always."

Feliciano smiled back at him. "Hm, thank you." He said happily, quietly. In moments like these, Feliciano was strangely good at sensing his brother's mood, and keeping calm. Way too often would he be oblivious to the feelings and thoughts of others', and that did not always give fantastic results with the things he would say or do. Lovino had decided that his brother could be described as dense, most of the time.

"Wanna come outside with me?" Lovino asked after a few seconds of comfortable silence.

"Why, where are you going?"

Lovino shrugged. "Just felt like taking a walk or something."

"Now?" Feliciano sounded a bit worried. He loved it whenever Lovino suggested something that meant they could hang out. Maybe get to talk or something. And he hated having to decline it, but he did not want to stop painting.

"Yes, right now. Can't you finish that later?" The older brother asked, furrowing his brows a bit.

"Mm... But I'm really on fire right now!" Feliciano said with a chuckle.

Lovino rolled his eyes and stood up. "Fine, I'll go by myself then." He left the room, feeling his brother watching him, most probably filled with doubt or an ounce of regret.

Lovino wandered a bit outside, just watching the people he saw on the street, aimlessly, before he decided to set his direction towards the river. As soon as reached his destination, he leaned against the stone wall at the side of the road, his eyes roaming the presented view in front of him. Lovino's thoughts drifted off to the "party-thing", as his brother had decided to name it, that would be held only some distance away from here. He wasn't sure if he was excited about it or not. A part of him still did not want to go, but another part of him told him that it might be fun. Why wouldn't it be? Parties usually were just that. Fun. Not that he had been to that many, but still.

The Italian's eyes traveled downwards, staring into the constantly dancing surface of the water, as some hair tickled his nose in the wind. Sometimes the length of his rosewood coloured hair bothered him, but he rarely cut it. Lovino could recall once when he was eleven, and he had gotten into a massive fallout with his brother, which ended up in him cutting his own hair in order to look less like Feliciano. It had been so short, and their grandpa had been so angry. Lovino was unable to suppress a small chuckle thinking of it. He shook his head slightly. _"Never again__,__" _he thought, _"I looked horrible."_

Lovino turned his head and spotted someone familiar, whom he could not quite put his finger on who it was. He squinted his eyes, and felt his face heat up slightly when he realised: it was that guy who had complained about his Pasta Carbonara, his suddenly vivid memories told him. Although, Lovino could not recall what his name was anymore. He wondered for a moment if he should go up and talk to him, but dismissed the idea quickly. Why would he? Lovino didn't even like the guy. He'd been annoying since the first time they met.

He furrowed his brows and pursed his lips. The bastard sure had some nerves, just barging in and telling him things like that, thinking he knew how to make Italian food. He wasn't even Italian, for God's sake!

Lovino huffed and took a step backwards, parting from the stone wall. The guy was talking to a girl, but Lovino could only see her back, and not her face. He looked away and put his hands in his pockets, a grumpy look on his young face. Perhaps it was time to go home. He didn't want to risk bumping into the guy and maybe have to talk to him. So Lovino did just that, he went home.


	3. Chapter 3

It had always seemed to Lovino as if he wasn't alone in being in his most low and tired mood during Mondays. It seemed almost mandatory not to be in your highest spirits, days like these.

Though Lovino's job wasn't very exhausting. His shift didn't start ridiculously early or end awfully late. All he had to do was take orders, cook whatever he was asked to, and shout at his brother (and even this was something he sort of did by own choice.) Even so, he'd quickly become tired of it all. Lovino and Feliciano had not been working at the restaurant for very long, but Lovino already felt as if he'd been (and would be) here forever.

With a sigh, he placed the plate of salad on the counter and called out for his brother, who was quick to pick it up and flash Lovino a smile, before he took off towards the waiting customer.

He wondered momentarily how it would actually be if he got out. If he was to travel; where would he go, with whom, for how long?

And how would it feel? Since it's made obvious that he hadn't done it before, he hadn't a clue as to what it'd be like for him.

Some people loved traveling. They were adventurous. And if fitted them. If asked how they know how it's really done, they'd tell you that they _don't_ know. It's not something you learn, it's something you try. Because it's different every time, and it's just experiences. So if Lovino knew this, did that not make him ready for it? Perhaps.

But he was still scared and not spontaneous enough. Yet, the boy would take the first chance he got and fly away to unknown places. Maybe it wasn't his thing, but neither was working here all melancholy, he had decided.

For a second, he pondered the idea of Feliciano following him. It wasn't necessarily something he wished for, but it would not come as a surprise if the younger Vargas would suggest it. Lovino would probably decline, but you never know how it ends anyway. Roma might just be on Feliciano's side, like so many times before.

Rolling his eyes, and letting out a long awaited yawn, Lovino poured a cup of coffee for himself. He liked it black. Different variations, such as Macchiato, for example, is something he'd tried various times. He did not dislike it, and perhaps it was just his laziness keeping him from making anything else but stark, black coffee for himself in the mornings.

Either way, he found it quicker to get him awake and alert than a latte would, for example. It was all milk anyway.

At the moment, there were only about three customers there, so Lovino decided to take himself out of the kitchen for the time being. While he still had the chance, that is. So, grabbing his cup of coffee, yawning yet another time, he made his way through the door, searching the not-so-crowded dining hall for his younger brother. It did not take very long before he spotted him, sitting with the morning paper by one of the tables. Surprising, Lovino thought, that he wasn't making conversation with any of the guests. He took for granted that his brother was simply tired as well.

Lovino sat down without a word, earning a glance and a sweet smile from the familiar, chestnut-haired Italian sitting opposite him.

"Anything interesting?" He asked after a few seconds, tipping his head towards the news paper. Feliciano looked up at him, blinking, before shrugging his shoulders.

"Not really," He said, "Just the same old things."

"Hm." Lovino hummed affirmatively. He looked out over the people eating and drinking, taking a sip of his burning hot coffee. A disgruntled grimace spread across his face, having hurt his tongue with the liquid.

Looking up as he heard the little bell by the door ring, Lovino's eyes met with those of an unfamiliar man, which wasn't anything new to him. His eyes switched over to his brother, who had now turned around as well to greet the customer with his gaze. He put the paper down on the table, walking over to the man with his usual polite manners, and Lovino could hear him asking the man what he would like.

The older Italian stood up as well, getting ready to go and make whatever the man wished. He felt almost as a slave, and he knew that it was pretty much just what he was, but nobody else minded it, as it was the duties of a chef to follow orders.

The voice of the blonde, tall man was amiable and heavily accented, as he asked if Feliciano knew English. Lovino couldn't keep from rolling his eyes, thinking bad of whoever comes to Italy without even knowing how to order in the native language.

Feliciano excused himself and laughed as he switched to English, and the man's eyes weren't as confused and pleading as before, now that he understood. It was funny, Lovino found, to listen to their conversation, such different accents on both ends. Feliciano took the man's coat for him, before gesturing towards a chair which the man gladly accepted and sat down by. Within seconds, Feliciano had hung the coat elsewhere, and was scribbling down with his fine handwriting just what the man ordered to be served. Lovino waited with his coffee until Feliciano was there, handing him the note with a hushed "He's not from here! Exciting, right?", making Lovino roll his eyes at the obvious statement.

He walked into the kitchen, putting his coffee on the counter as he started with the cornetti that the man had ordered. These took a rather long time to make, so Lovino was glad that he had got a few pre-made, just waiting to be eaten already.

Cornetti delicately lying on a plate, and Bonarda Piemontese filled glass, Lovino put it on the counter and called for his brother, wondering who in their right mind would drink wine at such an early hour. Perhaps it was just some tourist, curious about the Italian cuisine and its beverages.

"France! He's from France!" Feliciano informed him gleefully as he took the order, and Lovino raised his brows in slight interest. He hadn't met a Frenchman before, he was sure. He was far from as ecstatic as his younger sibling though.

As Feliciano left, Lovino stood drinking his coffee until the cup was half emptied, and put it down in the sink. A glance out towards the dining hall, he spotted his brother chatting with the foreign man, and decided that he wanted to try it as well. His excuse for doing so was a good one, as well.

"Feliciano, don't bother the customers while they're eating!" He scolded in English as he approached them, standing straight with his hands on his hips. He scanned the man discreetly, noting his sky-blue eyes and his wavy blonde hair, messily pulled back with a loose ribbon. It wasn't something Lovino would try himself, if his hair was long like that, but he found that the man pulled it off quite nicely.

Said person looked back up at Lovino, and the Italian shifted his eyes to his brother instead, not wanting to be caught staring. Feliciano was about to excuse himself, before the man decided to participate in the conversation.

Wine glass raised in his hand, he said, "Ah, that is all right. I was quite enjoying our little chat, actually!" with a gentle smile. Lovino couldn't help but to be both fascinated and repelled by the man's sleazy yet charming looking aspects.

Suddenly the whole scene was giving Lovino a dèja vu, and it made him bitter to think of the last customer he talked to. Why did he get himself into this voluntarily, anyway? The fact that the last person was Spanish had not seemed to evoke any interest in him what so ever. Although, French did feel a lot more alien than Spanish, so Lovino just decided that that was the reason.

"Francis was telling me about France!"

Lovino almost felt the need to shudder at the familiar situation. Was Feliciano messing with him? He was almost sure.

"You sure like hearing about foreign countries from strangers, eh, Feli?" He said, switching to Italian. It wasn't as if the Frenchman would have understood the reference anyway.

"Well, it's interesting! Don't you think so?"

Lovino shrugged, sitting down beside him with a sigh. He peeked as the so called Francis took a bite of his cornetti, seemingly enjoying it.

"Your pastries are very good, I must say," He complimented, and Lovino nodded in thanks, "we have these in France as well, you know. Although we call them 'croissant.'"

"Do you, really." Lovino said, uninterested. Sure, he might've been interested in the _country_, but he felt no need to listen to what Francis made sound like criticism. Lovino almost wanted to glare at him for making a simple statement sound like a debate over which one was better. Either way, of course a cornetti was better!

Francis raised his eyebrow, taking another bite from the discussed pastry. Despite how much better he might have found the native ones he was used to, it was more than obvious to Lovino that his Italian_ cornettis_ were a big hit with the foreign customer, as well. An ounce of pride hit him, and he smirked softly, keeping up the glance he had fixed on Francis.

The reason Lovino had wanted to join the conversation, however, had not been because of the differences between pastries, of course. He wanted not to waste the little time he had before having to return to the kitchen, at small talking about food. He had been interested in hearing about France, and that was what he intended to do.

A careful clearing of his throat, and Lovino shifted his eyes downwards, looking for the right words. He did not have much experience in social conversing.

"So, you're from France, huh?" said Lovino, after a few wary seconds of silence. He noticed Francis' eyes shifting up to Feliciano, before placed on the older Italian, and a smile curled across his lips.

"Mm, that is correct," he said, "why?"

Lovino shrugged. "Just curious."

"Ah?" Francis raised his eyebrows, and the corners of his mouth were pulled even higher. Lovino furrowed his brows a bit. "Curious, hm?"

He sensed something smug or teasing in the tone of the Frenchman's voice, but he could not be too sure. Ignoring it, he nodded his head. "Y-Yeah... Uh," he pursed his lips thoughtfully, "how is France?"

Leaning back in his chair, Francis' face took that of a very dreamlike state, it appeared. His hand fell to his chest, fingers sprawled over his heart. A place he obviously held his homeland very close to.

"France! Why not just call it heaven?" He said dramatically, and Feliciano looked very eager to find out more, and why it was such a simile to heaven. Lovino felt utterly annoyed, though. He had never liked these over dramatic types. Too exaggerated, he thought.

"Is it really that good?" the younger Vargas asked, almost as in a whisper. His eyes were widened and beaming with interest. Lovino managed to hide his own pretty well though.

Francis nodded, wiping fake tears from his eyes. "Oh, yes! Ah, the beautiful people; the breathtaking cuisine; the lovely scenery..."

Maybe Lovino should have refrained from asking. It was evident that Francis could go on for hours about his home. Now, Lovino had in fact been interested, but not in the shallow praising of the country, but perhaps a short yet detailed view of it. He'd considered it being one of the places he'd visit someday, and it would certainly be useful to know a thing or two before going there. Was it much different from Italy? Was everyone like Francis? Then maybe Lovino might want to check France off his list right now.

"I better get back to the kitchen." Lovino interrupted the Frenchman's blabbering quietly, and strictly. If the foreigner felt the need to keep his rambling up, then surely Feliciano was all ears. Lovino found himself preferring the peace and quiet of the loneliness for once.

As if he hadn't spoken at all, Francis went on. Not with the oh so dramatic (and what almost sounded like a practiced) description of the North-European nation of France, but to ask Lovino a question straight up. One might almost think that he had not even noticed the way Lovino had cut him off before, but he had, obviously, since it had shut him up (momentarily).

"So, are you interested in geography? History?" Francis asked, crossing his legs, and seeming more interested in his folded fingers than in Lovino, who he was not even looking at as he spoke.

The Italian took some time to answer, still standing beside the table. He shifted from one leg to another a few times, his brows furrowed. So, he had asked what France was like... Big deal?

"...Not really, why?"

Francis shrugged and looked up at Lovino. Maybe he did have _some_ manners, after all.

"I just figured. Do you want to visit France?"

"I don't know. I-" Lovino's words hung left unsaid for a few moments, "Yeah, maybe."

"I do!" Feliciano chirped in, still looking as beaming as he had when Francis uttered his first words about the country in question. "Ah, France seems fantastic."

"And it is!" Francis nodded. Lovino had to roll his eyes. As if it was not obvious enough already that this was the Frenchman's opinion. He did not say anything about it though, of course. Manners, manners. You have to be nice to the guest. He knew this, after hearing both his brother and his grandfather ranting enough times. Lovino did have a habit of snapping at people, saying things that affected both his mood and their view of him rather negatively. This was bad for the business, he'd learnt, so he had forced himself to get better at controlling it. There were still some types of people who lured it out of him, though. Francis might just show to be one of them. And Lovino was sure that that brash Spaniard was as well.

"Perhaps you would like to come with me someday, hm?" Francis pretty much purred, leaning across the table with a heated look shot towards Lovino's younger brother. This, Lovino decided quickly, was _not_ appreciated. At least... Not by Lovino. Feliciano looked as clueless as ever; however if one would give him a few more minutes he'd probably realise that he was being flirted with, but Lovino wasn't going to give this obscene Frenchman that time.

He surprised all three of them (and a few other customers who turned their heads rather sharply at the sudden action) by smashing the palm of his hand down on the table, right in between Francis and Feliciano. They looked up at him, and he quickly discarded the shirty look on his face, wishing he could do the same to the blush that was increasing.

"I- I think that it's time for both me and Feliciano to get back to work," he tried to explain, though Francis only raised an eyebrow, looking as if he was awaiting a better reason for Lovino's foul behaviour, "now."

Feliciano's voice was lowered, making him sound as if he wasn't sure if he wanted only Lovino to hear, or Francis as well. "But Lovi, he had just started talking about-"

"I don't care," Lovino said slowly, firmly. "We have work to do."

"There aren't any customers in need of service." Feliciano said, looking around to make sure of his words.

Lovino opened his mouth, ready to argue, but thought of nothing. Francis had been the last to enter the small restaurant, and no one else seemed to be needing assistance.

With a cross sigh, Lovino sat down beside his brother again, feeling bad for causing the small scene that just occurred. It had been a vain try to escape this dooming situation. Although he figured, if he couldn't get them both away from this unnerving man, then the second best option was to at least make sure he wouldn't try to get it on with Feliciano any more. Because Lovino was sure that that was what Francis had been trying to do, with that one, simple, flirtatious little sentence. Lovino had seen flirting many times before.

"I... I excuse my behaviour, then." He muttered under his breath.

"No harm done," Francis said, a slug smile plastered upon his lips. Lovino kept his defences up, but this man still looked as superior as ever. "Jealously isn't something we can help. I understand."

"Jealousy?" Lovino repeated, "what the f-... What are you talking about?"

"Clearly, you want to go to France as well. But don't worry! I can take you both with me!"

"You think_ that's_...? You think I'd want to go to France with y-... I..."

A snort escaped Lovino, and he couldn't help but to grin and shake his head. This man was unbelievable, to say the least. The Italian was almost amused.

"I see no other explanation." Francis winked, his voice low and playful. Not in such an obnoxious way as before, Lovino found, but more as if he was actually teasing him like a friend would do. Lovino was put a little more at ease by this, even though he still did not like the man.

"I'm gonna have to say no to your offer." He said, looking out over the dining hall.

Francis sat back in his chair, bringing the glass of wine to his lips. "I'll let you sleep on it." He winked again, taking a sip of the dark, deep, burgundy coloured liquid.

* * *

Later that evening, as the restaurant was emptied from customers, cleaned, and closed; Lovino and Feliciano was sitting upstairs in their room. For some reason - which Lovino had completely forgotten by now - he'd allowed Feliciano to paint him. The younger Vargas loved it, and he'd asked many times if he could do a portrait of Lovino, who always declined the suggestion. The idea of sitting there, still as a statue, for God knows how long, did not sound tempting at all to him. Tonight, however, he had actually given in. Feliciano was more than thrilled.

Fifteen minutes had passed, and each time Lovino asked how long he'd have to sit there, Feliciano promised that he was more than half-way done. They both knew this was a lie, but kept up the same old questions and answers either way.

After a while, Lovino was bored enough by their pointless conversations, and decided that if he was going to spend this torturing time alone with his brother, they might as well have a decent discussion.

To his dismay, the first subject that popped into his head was Francis and his beloved country. Lovino was actually sort of keen to go there, just... Perhaps not with said Frenchman.

"Feli?" He spoke up, earning a confirmatory grunt from his brother. He took some time to continue on, not sure how he wanted to start. "What, er.. What did you think of Francis, exactly?"

Feliciano looked up from his work, tilting his head a little bit. He was obviously a bit confused by the sudden question. After a while, he smiled and focused on the painting again. "I liked him! He seemed really, um... Well, he was nice!" Feliciano shrugged a shoulder.

"Did you think he was weird, too?"

Feliciano chuckled quietly. "Maybe a bit."

"I think he was a nutcase."

Feliciano laughed a little louder this time. "Why?"

Lovino shrugged. "He gave me the fucking chills."

"Language, Lovi."

"Shut up."

"Sit still."

Lovino sighed. A few seconds of silence passed. It was comfortable, though. Lovino loved the fact that he could still have these brotherly-love moments with Feliciano, even though the sappiness was killing him. If they'd be arguing all the time it would certainly get the best of him.

"So how's it going with Antonio?" Feliciano asked teasingly. Lovino was well aware that he did these things because of one reason, and one reason only: to exasperate his brother. It was in his blood; his genes. It was normal for younger siblings to drive their older ones insane. Lovino just wished that Feliciano would find another way to do it, because this one wasn't even funny to him, for some reason.

"Stop that," he said, sounding as serious as ever, "I told you to lay off with that."

A roll of Feliciano's eyes, and Lovino felt even more enraged.

"You're so touchy. I was only kidding."

"Yeah, well stop kidding then, you ass."

Feliciano scrunched his nose. "Your expression changed entirely."

"Because you had to ruin everything by bringing that annoying fuck up again!"

"The painting isn't going to end up very nice..."

"Of course not! You screwed it up." Lovino crossed his arms, looking out through the window. It was raining a little bit now. Funny. The previous hours of the day had been so sunny and clear. Perhaps it changed with Lovino's mood. That would be spooky.

Feliciano sat down on the foot of his bed, scratching his head a little. "Lovi, you should lighten up a bit. You always get so mad when I mention Antonio."

Lovino didn't answer. The reason as to why it made him so mad, he knew not. Maybe it was because Feliciano was constantly mocking him about a person that he could not even remember the name of until it was mentioned. Maybe it was because he wished his brother would learn to let things go. Or that he himself would let things go, because maybe he had actually found himself thinking about this person more than he'd liked. Maybe, just maybe, he still hated this Antonio at the same time as he couldn't help but to wonder what he was doing; where he was at.

Maybe it just bothered Lovino that he had such a hard time letting go of something, someone so small and insignificant as a stupid customer who had made Lovino's blood boil once, and the fact that his brother was always talking about him was not helping.

Maybe Lovino should get out more. See more people. Even though he was meant to fail. When he only ever saw his family, of course anyone new would make an imprint on his mind. And damn the fact that it had to be that intrusive Spaniard.

Lovino stood sharply, making Feliciano flinch. He knew not whether he was angry, or just irritated, or worked up to the point where he could actually cry. So ridiculous. So, so silly, he declared himself. Even the thought of crying about such a thing. It made his mood even more foul, and in the haste of exiting the room, he flung his arm out, his hand sending a cup of paintbrushes flying across the room from the table they had stood on. He could hear the sound of them crashing against the floor, the cup breaking, and the brushes scattering out over the surface as his brother stood from the bed to watch him go. Feliciano did not say anything. Neither did Lovino. Truthfully, he had not been as upset as he had seemed. Breaking his brother's property was exaggerating. It was childish._ Now_ he was upset like that, however. Now he was upset with himself. For being such a lousy brother, and such an obstinate and loathsome person.


	4. Chapter 4

Lovino was erroneous. Lovino was wrong. Lovino was a fault; a failure. He regretted that he had lashed out on his brother for nothing. He regretted that he had broken his things. He regretted that as he met Roma downstairs, he would not listen. His grandfather had only heard the crash as the cup collided with the floorboards, and as he asked what happened and Lovino told him just exactly what happened (_"I broke that fucking blue cup of Feli's, that's what happened!"_) he received a questioning look and a light scolding. So, Lovino regretted taking for granted that Roma was on Feliciano's side. He regretted yelling at him and continuing his hurried walk out of the restaurant, into the dying rain.

He was now walking aimlessly out on the streets, trying to block away the voices in his head that told him to stop acting like a six year old kid. The ones that told him to turn around and apologise to his family. The ones that told him that no one had done anything wrong, except for him.

But he knew just what it was. He wasn't easily exasperated or touchy enough to explode from a single comment thrown carelessly from his brother, no. He knew that he was better. He had more control. But there was the Pile. The Pile inside of him. Built up hope, waiting, wondering, self-loathing, anger; all together in a pile. Storing everything inside himself wasn't good, which he knew, but he could not talk to anybody.

Feliciano would listen. Roma would listen. But Lovino did not want to tell them. He hadn't thought too much of this, so a reason as to why he would rather keep his worries and insecurities to himself rather than being supported and helped by his close ones... Well, a reason for that did not exist as far as he knew, quite frankly.

One small little question and Lovino had exploded.

"Hormones." He mumbled to himself. He often blamed them. It was a useful way to deal with the fact that he was getting more and more bitter for pointless sakes. But he was so young, and he knew nothing, really.

Lovino made a sudden stop, a grunt escaping his throat. He buried his face in his hands, rubbing up and down before running them through his auburn locks. They were wet from the rain, but he did not mind.

Looking around, his eyes settled on a doorstep to a house which he knew was empty. Lovino made his way over to it and sat down, face right back in his hands.

What bothered him now wasn't simply the fact that he thought less of himself, but that certainly Roma did as well. For every time that Lovino showed to be such a flawed human, his grandfather must have lost an ounce of hope. Just a bit of pride. And Feliciano became more and more apprehensive, and incredulous towards his older brother. No, Lovino was aware that acting thoughtlessly like he did would only make all matters worse. And as much as he would like to say that other people's opinions on him wasn't a care of his, it was not quite true. At least not when it came to his family. Because he would always be a bit wary that his actions would make Roma think less of him. To Lovino's dismay, he really wanted the old man to be proud of him.

"Are you all right?" A voice shattered the paper-thin walls that Lovino had built around himself momentarily. He wasn't sure if he was glad that someone brought him back to reality, or if he wanted to be left alone. The latter sounded more inviting, but it was probably not the better option, still.

"I'm... Fine." He assured in a muffled voice, not removing his palms from his face. This way, he was going to be left alone whether he wanted or not.

Or so he thought. For a moment, Lovino actually thought the person had left - even with the lack of sounding footsteps - before the voice spoke again. A bit more calm, and less worrying.

"You don't look fine."

"The fuck do you know?"

"Well," Lovino could hear the sound of feet stepping on ground, as the person changed standing position a little bit, "it's raining, and it's getting dark, and it's rather cold - for being Italy - and you're sitting all alone looking sort of depressed, and-"

"All right! I get it!" Lovino snapped, his hands parting from his head to make a gesture in front of him, lying flat in the air, palms up. Neither of them moved or said anything for a moment, before the person made a move to sit down beside Lovino, and his head was shielded from the piercing droplets by an umbrella. Lovino listened to the sound of the water hitting it, and hitting the streets and the houses, and he sighed. He felt messed up. Just a little bit, but still. Supposedly, everyone was a little messed up. At least from time to time. He looked at the person beside him.

"I guess I'm not fine." He said quietly, clasping his hands.

He was met with a kind smile, and caring eyes.

Lovino sighed again. "I thought I wouldn't have to see you again, you idiot."

"I'm sorry about that, but considering that we live pretty close to each other at the moment, it's hard to avoid you."

"No it isn't. Just... Don't come up to me. Don't talk to me. Don't enter the restaurant again."

"Your food is good. And your brother is really nice," he paused, "I don't know about you though." He nudged Lovino's side lightly with his elbow.

"Shut up." Lovino said, earning a chuckle from Antonio. Lovino did not even smile, however, which the other did not fail to notice.

"What happened?" He said after another moment of verbal silence. Complete silence was out of the question, due to the noisy weather.

"It's..." Lovino trailed off, furrowing his brows. "None of your fucking business." It really was not. He knew he would tell Antonio either way though. He was already on the edge, and he had to tell someone. Despite the fact that he still was not fond of this guy at all, he seemed reliable. Lovino knew not if his image of Antonio was correct, so he may or may not regret telling him personal matters. Right now though, he just needed to say something. Maybe he could get some advice. Or maybe he could take out his anger by scolding Antonio. That might make him feel better.

"Of course not." Antonio nodded, looking out across the street. Despite the rain, there was still quite a lot of people out. Maybe they were all as crazy as Lovino was. "You look like you need to talk to somebody though. Or at least to be walked home."

"What are you doing out here, anyway?" Lovino ignored what Antonio had just said, skipping right to what he really wanted an answer to.

The Spaniard looked at him, a bit surprised. "Ah, I was at a friend's. It got late." He smiled. "I'm on my way home right now, actually."

Lovino nodded. Fair enough reason. Much better than his own.

"You?" Antonio asked.

Lovino did not answer right away. He had to decide how he would explain. Quite frankly, he wasn't sure himself. He was upset over nothing, was all he knew. He had exploded and lashed out like a little child, and he had stormed out without a destination. He had forgotten about the rain, and he had not thought of the possibility of meeting someone he knew. Lovino stared at the building across the street. It was an ugly, deep, yellow-orange colour. The building was of stone, and looked exceptionally old. There was a big crack in one of the walls, and curtains hiding whatever was on the other side of those round, wooden-framed windows. Lovino was suddenly really curious about what was in there. He'd rather explore that than having to express his guilt through words to Antonio. He owed nothing to Antonio. He didn't have to tell him anything.

And yet, he did. "I had a fight with Feli." He said simply. It was almost too simple, but it was true. A silly, pointless fight, all based on the fact that Lovino hadn't sorted out his thoughts yet. He let his emotions get the best of him, even though he constantly promised himself not to let that happen. It led to things like this. Stupid things like sitting in the rain with Antonio when he should be letting Feliciano painting him.

Maybe Antonio sensed that no questions should be asked, because he asked none. He nodded, and looked away from Lovino, and placed a hand on his shoulder, and said in a voice as hushed as a whisper that Lovino should go back and make things okay. Lovino knew that was what he should have done, yes. And so he did. He took an advice from the stupid, foreign customer that was now showing to be a decent human being, and he went home, and he apologised for being a selfish brat. Both Roma and Feliciano forgave him right away, and did not think too much of it. When it all came down to it, Feliciano was mostly just upset about his little blue cup.

* * *

Two days later, and Lovino was wondering briefly if Antonio had taken his advice to stay away. He had not been over in quite a while now, which made the Italian wonder. Twice before, and with such a short distance in between them, and now it had gone far too long. Lovino held tight on not wanting Antonio here often. He did not want to befriend him, or get to know him, or serve him on a regular basis. Far from it. If the Spaniard actually did take his word and stayed away from now on, that would be marvelous.

But Lovino had realised that the way he saw Antonio before was wrong. What he had thought him to be was a complete lie, and Antonio had actually helped him two nights ago.

In the end, nothing had turned out to be very serious, of course. In the end, Lovino would have gone back by own will and apologised. Yes, in the end, even without Antonio's advice, everything would have ended up the same. Except for the change in Lovino's mind. He looked at the Spaniard a little differently now, because by so simply showing that he cared, and that he actually did have a functioning brain, he had urged Lovino to do what was best. What was right. Lovino wanted to thank him, and maybe apologise for acting so shamelessly towards him all these few times. It appeared now that Antonio had never deserved the foul language and the glares that he received.

Even though he had complained about Lovino's food. Which was still, of course, unforgivable. But perhaps Lovino could look beyond it for a mere minute just to explain to Antonio that he was appreciated, and that Lovino was the bigger person. If only the bastard would show up for once! Because the option to seek him out himself was definitely off the table, Lovino had quickly decided.

"Lovino, follow me to the marketplace!" Feliciano peeked his head inside the kitchen and suggested. Lovino glanced out into the dining hall, noting that since it was still only noon, and barely a handful of customers, they might have time to run a few quick errands, yes. He discarded the weak cleaning he had been doing - just to keep himself busy, really - and nodded at his brother as he followed him outside, wallet in hand.

As soon as they arrived, everything was as usual. Feliciano had received a list from Roma of what was needed, and Lovino had snatched that as soon as they got to their destination. He knew that Feliciano would be occupying himself with whomever he found interesting, rather than looking for groceries. Lovino was used to and would do that work himself today, as any other day.

"Milk, tomatoes, flour..." Lovino mumbled to himself as he went through the list, trying to block out the sound of chatter and shouting and laughing from everyone around him. There were less people here today however, he noticed. Not many people came to the marketplace in the middle of the week like this.

As he was deep in his thoughts, checking off and looking for where to buy various of the ordered subjects listed on the little note he held in his hand, Lovino bumped into someone. He let out a startled huff, and looked up, meeting with his brother's familiar back, before the latter turned around to look at Lovino.

"Feli! Stop running around like a maniac, for fuck's sake!" He demanded, even though his brother had been standing completely still, apparently talking to his short, quiet, Japanese friend again. Lovino had forgotten his name as well. It had probably been replaced with Antonio's, which was now imprinted very well in Lovino's mind.

"Did you get everything on the list?" Feliciano asked, ignoring his brother's remark. He was used to them, after all.

"No, I have about half left, it's pretty long. Why don't you help instead of mingling with strangers, eh?" Lovino said, annoyance clear in his eyes.

Feliciano let out a chuckle, taking the list from Lovino's hand. "I wasn't mingling," he said, "I was talking to Kiku about Friday."

Kiku. Right. Lovino would have to write that one down later. It was an unusual one. Nothing less was expected as the boy wasn't from around here though, anyway.

Feliciano started walking, Lovino following on his right side, and Kiku on his left. "Apparently the party will he held by the library."

"The library?"

"Yep!"

"Of all places..." Lovino muttered in a questioning tone. Did the librarians agree on this? From what he knew they did prefer silence over partying. At least when it came to their work.

"The library will be closed on Friday night," Kiku spoke up, his voice low and calm like always, "considering the amount of houses here, the widest area they could find was out beside the library. They decided to close down voluntarily, I heard, since no one would be able to read anyway."

Lovino couldn't help but to snicker, "How loud are we going to be?" he said sarcastically.

"Apparently, very."

"Seems like it." Lovino mumbled, shoving his hands in his pockets (which was a challenging task, considering the grocery bags hanging around his wrists.)

"Lemons!" Feliciano exclaimed, pointing a finger and hurrying his speed towards the stall filled with lemons, melons, bananas and pineapples. He was quick to buy what they needed, and back in between his brother and friend, repeating the process of listening to and participating in small talk until he spotted something that was on the list. It took them a little longer than if Lovino would have done this by himself, but the change was rather nice, he found. Hopefully there were not any waiting customers back in the restaurant.

* * *

"She's super cute, and giggles all the time, and she_ always_ wears skirts, and..." Feliciano went on, telling his brother about his latest female interest. This one, he had not met in the restaurant like most others, however; but when out buying something new to put his brushes in. Lovino still felt some of the shame rushing through him whenever he thought of the dismal in Feliciano's face as he swept the remains of the porcelain cup away.

"Oh, and she's got the brownest eyes I have ever seen!" He ended his ranting, looking completely mesmerized by the thought of what he had described as 'dark-chocolate coated irises'.

"What's her name?" Lovino asked, just for the sake of offering a question and something to the conversation. He was less than interested, but felt the need to humour his brother.

"Mirella. She's from Naples, did you know?"

Lovino rolled his eyes, rubbing the counter in the kitchen with a dishcloth. "No, I did not. Did she just move here?"

Feliciano nodded, before realising that his brother could not see him. "Yes, about a week ago, I think."

They did not say anything for a while, both brothers deep in their own thoughts. The only sound was the running tap. Lovino rinsed the washcloth, wringed and emptied it of as much water as he could, before leaving it hanging off the tap and exiting the kitchen. With a sigh, he sat down beside his brother, resting his chin in his hand.

"Do you like her?" Lovino asked, earning a wondering look from his brother. Feeling the need to explain his question further, he continued. Because it was rather obvious already that Feliciano did anything but _dislike_ this Mirella. "I mean, _really_ like her. Not just the kind of like you do with the girls who come into the restaurant."

Feliciano still looked a bit questioning.

"You only ever flirt with them once, give them a meal for free and then that's that."

"Oh," the younger looked down, "I... I guess?"

Lovino furrowed his brows. "You guess?"

"I've only met her twice, Lovino."

"Oh..." Lovino breathed quietly, scratching the back of his head.

Interrupting thoughts and any chance at taking the conversation further, the little bell by the door rang like so many times before, startling both brothers a bit. Wasn't it obvious by the darkness inside, and the very distinct sign by the door that they were closed? Lovino leaned a bit to the side, looking past his brother as a familiar Frenchman stepped inside the dining hall, the same grimace of cotton-soft smile and half-lidded eyes gracing his features.

"Francis!" Feliciano greeted him from the table, "What are you doing here?"

Francis took his coat off, hanging it gracefully on the coat rack beside the door. He made his way over to the small table occupied by the brothers, and stole a chair from one of the other's to sit in between Feliciano and Lovino. He sighed dramatically, leaning back and closing his eyes. Feliciano looked as if he was anticipating a very fascinating answer from the man; Lovino had to look away and ignore the annoyance building up inside of him. He did not hate Francis, or any of the like, of course. But that did not stop him from being more than exasperated with the man.

Francis cracked an eye open, looking between the brothers. "Oh, you do not mind, do you?" He asked, and Lovino felt the need to inform him that yes, they did very much mind. Feliciano beat him to answer, however.

Shaking his head with an amiable smile, he said, "Not at all! Is there something you want?"

Francis smacked his lips a little, leaning forward with his elbows on the table, his fingers intertwined. "Well, now that you ask," he let out a soft chuckle, "That Bonarda Piemontese of yours wasn't so bad."

"We're closed." Lovino stated callously.

"Oh, really?" He looked over to where he had just entered from, "The door seemed very much open to me."

"Well, we were just closing." Lovino muttered through gritted teeth.

"Ah! Excellent, that I got here just before you locked everything up then, hm?"

Rubbing his forehead, Lovino pondered whether he should just get that wine to shut the man up, or if he should stubbornly set his foot down, forcing him out of here right now. He'd rather have the second, but he was not so sure if Feliciano would give allowance to such behaviour. Not that Lovino cared too much about that was approved by his brother or not, but it was right to act kindly towards the customer (whether or not he was a brash Frenchman), and Lovino knew that was exactly what Roma would say as well. So, standing up, he shot a glare at the late-night customer, who simply winked at him, and Lovino muttered his way into the kitchen to pour a glass of grape wine.

When he returned, Francis and Feliciano were already chatting away, it seemed. Lovino placed the glass in front of Francis, who thanked him, and the Italian answered with a confirmatory grunt as he sat down in his chair.

"Your brother tells me you are both attending the Friday festival, Lovino?" Francis said, taking a sip from his wine.

Lovino shrugged. In all honesty, he wasn't far too keen about the idea, but in the end his brother would most probably drag him along anyway. "Probably. And when did you learn my name?" He questioned, his brows furrowing. He had no memory of introducing himself; however, Lovino had a vague idea of who was to blame.

"Oh, I told him." Feliciano chirped. Just as expected, Lovino thought. "And... Probably?" The younger one questioned, "You mean definitely! Come on, Lovi, you promised!"

"I never promised you anything!" He argued, not remembering making anything more clear than that he would consider the idea. Why Feliciano found such importance in having Lovino's word confirmed already was quite the mystery. It was heavily obvious already that Lovino wasn't going to put up much of a fight when Friday arrived, and Feliciano coaxed him to follow.

Lovino could imagine the party being quite an experience. Even though he was not the most comfortable guy in social situations, it would be fun, he was sure. At least, that was, if he could dance. He had never really done so before, which made it evident that he would fail miserably. If he was lucky he might not have to, however. It _was_ a festival (_"Festival-party-thingy"_), so there would be other attractions to busy himself with. Food, drinks, maybe even some sort of carousels. If so, most likely childrens' carousels, and perhaps a ferris wheel, but it was still better than having to embarrass himself, trying to move smoothly to the rhythm of music among hundreds of people.

"Are you going, Francis?" Feliciano asked, pulling his legs up on the chair, hugging his knees.

"I most certainly am, yes!" Francis nodded. "I even got myself a date. Ah, a very beautiful one, too."

"Wait, you're supposed to bring a date?" Lovino was suddenly more nervous than before. He did not know anyone who would be willing to go as his date, he was sure. He rarely got the time to speak to women. When he did, it was often just like how his brother would do. The flirt-once-and-buy-her-something-style. Not in the restaurant, of course, but whenever he was out.

Francis shook his head though, allowing Lovino to breathe again. "No, but I prefer to arrive with a primadonna." He explained, winking again. He did that a lot, Lovino noticed. It gave him the creeps.

"Who are you bringing?" Feliciano asked in a hushed voice, almost as if the answer was a secret.

"I doubt that you know her, she is from France," He swirled the wine around in his glass, "her name is Amorette." He said, rolling the r in the back of his throat, perfect French way.

"Did she come here with you?" Lovino asked.

"No, I met her here. Gained interest because she was the only French person I could find." He chuckled. "Not that there is anything wrong with Italian women, but of course, no one can compare to _les femmes françaises_."

"Is she blond, like you?" the younger Vargas asked, pointing to the flowing curls of Francis' head.

Francis laughed. "Not everyone in France is blond, _chéri_. Her hair is black, actually."

"Naturally?"

"Naturally."

"Oh..."

"_Oui_." Francis smiled, taking another sip of his drink.

Settling silence lay over the room for a moment, and Lovino wondered briefly what time it was. He also wondered if it would look better if he came with a date, just like Francis. Would many others do that? Would Feliciano? Would Kiku, or Antonio?  
Lovino did not even know if the last mentioned would attend. They had not spoken since that night in the rain, and the festival had not been a subject to cross Lovino's mind at all. He doubted it had been anything to run among the Spaniard's thoughts either. Or if so, he had not uttered a word about it, at least. Lovino was actually curious now if he could see Antonio there. It would be an opportunity to thank him, and apologise, like he still intended to do.

"Maybe I should ask Mirella to come with me..." Feliciano mumbled pensively, chewing his bottom lip slightly. Well, that was great, Lovino thought. His brother arriving with a date, but not him. Maybe he could go there by himself, and not with Feliciano. That would make him look less pathetic, he decided.

"Ah, may I ask who this _Mirella _is?" Francis purred, bringing the glass to his lips.

"Some chick that Feli's hasn't met more than twice." Lovino said before his brother could answer, and Feliciano looked at him bitterly.

Francis chuckled. "Some chick? Ah, Lovino, treat a goddess with respect." He waved a finger accusatory at Lovino, who only let a roll of his eyes argue against that. So this Francis was obviously a ladies' man. The way he had, clearly, made a pass at the younger of the brothers the other day though, made Lovino wonder if maybe he was a man for everybody. Or, at least, considered himself as such.

Eventually, Francis had finished his Bonarda Piemontese, and it was time for Lovino and Feliciano to actually close the restaurant. To Lovino's surprise, Francis offered to help them out, but as they were already pretty much done, they had thanked him no, and he had left.

Whatever Lovino should think of his man, he knew not. Deciding between disliking the unnerving perv, or like him for being such a special kind, would be a hard one.

* * *

Every ticking hour, minute, second of Friday was making Lovino sweat. Why was he so goddamn nervous about the night to come? Perhaps he was filled with excitement. It was hard to tell, he found.

But time moved fast, and all of a sudden they were closing up and getting ready for the night's offers. Everything was a mess in Lovino's mind. What should he wear? What should he bring? What would he actually do when he got there? Who would be there? Would Antonio come?

_That_. That was a question bothering him to no end. It seemed like an inevitable one, to say the least. In the end, Lovino had accepted that he simply enough could not stop thinking about the Spaniard. At least not the fact that if he would be there, he would most likely want to spend some time with Lovino. Or at least, the Italian took that for granted. Every time they had met before, it had been clear that Antonio had a thing for bothering him. So why should he not do the same this time? Although, if he did come up to talk to Lovino, it wouldn't be too bad. Lovino did have a thing or two to say to him, either way.

And if he didn't show up, Lovino would have to wait for another opportunity to converse with the man.

As they were on their way towards the library, Lovino could not help but to feel sick from the giggling and whispering from his brother's and Mirella's side. _"I really should have gone alone,"_ Lovino thought to himself.

Mirella had turned out to be a very nice, cute - and perhaps a bit annoying - little girl. She was extremely short, with a thin yet soft body type; brown, curly hair to her shoulders, and excessively brown eyes. Just like Feliciano had praised her for. Lovino had to admit that they were rather unusual, and slightly mesmerizing, after all. The fact that she was clinging to his brother and giggling every second completely erased any attraction he might have had for her, though.

They arrived after what seemed like an eternity (partially because of the common belief that time moves slower when you are not having fun, and partially because there was quite a distance between the restaurant and the library), to what was already a very lively event. There were quite a large amount of people, standing around in groups and alone. There were party tents, and a big stage, on which some people were already swinging to the music.

Loud, drowning out chances of conversation. Notes from Italian music was playing, and Lovino was shocked that they had not heard the sound of it all the way home. Certainly, it was noisy enough to wake up the entire city of Florence.

He realised already, that the ambiance offered him two choices. He could either enjoy the night and have a memory of it forever, or he could be roughly bothered by the ear-tearing music, the lack of people for him to spend the night with (his brother was out of the question, thanks to his oh so perfect little date), and the fact that Lovino was actually worried that he would not see Antonio tonight.

* * *

_AN: So, two minor OC's in this one._

_First up: Mirella. She isn't of much importance. She'll appear once or twice, but she doesn't have any great impact on the plot or so. She doesn't even get to speak, the poor girl. _  
_Then of course, there is Amorette. A French OC. I'm being so international, aren't I? That happens when you're dealing with Hetalia, you know. I'm still a bit unsure whether or not she will appear. If she does, it'll only be beside Francis during the festival-party-thingy. And she is obviously neither of great importance to the story._

_And a quick French translation, for those who're wondering!_

_Les femmes françaises - The French women  
Chéri - Darling_  
_Oui - Yes_


	5. Chapter 5

Lovino stared at the buff, blonde man in front of him. He scanned him, from his light, slicked back hair, all the way down to his shiny, black shoes. Right away, Lovino had decided not to like him. He was clueless as to why. Perhaps it was the stoic and callous ambiance that made the guy so intimidating, or maybe because Lovino's brother had found an immediate interest in the tall, broad guy... Or maybe just the fact that he was German. Lovino would not like to be called a racist, but he had always had something against Germans. He had no idea why that was.

"Ludwig, huh?" Lovino asked, crossing his arms over his chest. The blonde switched his weight from one leg to another, and the small gesture made Lovino flinch. He'd hate to admit it, but this guy really scared him. How was Feliciano not crying already? Lovino had always thought himself to be the bravest of the two... Even if only by an ounce.

"Yes. And you're... Lovino?"

Lovino nodded, squinting his eyes a little. Ludwig kept his superior stare up, but he still looked just a tad nervous. This made Lovino confident enough not to just run away already. "That's right." He confirmed.

Kiku was standing off to the side, beside Feliciano and Mirella - who clinged to Feliciano, making it obvious that she'd much rather run away with him than watch this dooming staring fight between her date's older brother and an unfamiliar German.

"So you're," Lovino paused, unfolding his arms and folding them again, in all his nervousness, "you're German, hm?"

Ludwig nodded once, sharply, as if he was answering to a military officer; however he still managed to show that he wasn't the slighest intimidated by Lovino. Perhaps a bit confused or annoyed by, but that was as far as it got. Something in Ludwig's eyes told though, that no matter how much fright he put Lovino through, he was not the violent type (unless he had to be.)

"What is he doing here, anyway?" Lovino switched to Italian, pointing at Ludwig with a thumb, and aiming his question at Feliciano. Both Kiku and Ludwig looked puzzled now, none of them familiar with the language.

"There are lots of tourists here, Lovino," Feliciano said with a smile, "he's probably here for the same reason Kiku is. Or Francis. Or Antonio."

"Hm," Lovino shrugged a shoulder. Supposedly, his brother was right. He turned his eyes back to Ludwig, ignoring Kiku's whispers to Feliciano that _'maybe I shouldn't have introduced them...'_, which was quite correct, perhaps. But it wasn't like any of them were expecting there to be such a heavy atmosphere in between the older Vargas and the German.

The song being played in the background faded out, and a new one started up right away. Feliciano reacted immediately, making a little jump and grasping Mirella's arm. "Oh! Oh! I know this one! Come on!" He hurried, dragging his giggling date with him towards the big platform, filled with other dancing couples.

"Yes, we should probably, er..." Kiku pointed after them, waving a desperate hand in between Ludwig and Lovino, breaking their little eye-contact contest.

"Right," Lovino muttered, feeling uneasy in the company of Ludwig. He wouldn't dwell on why they had come off at such a bad foot so quickly, for no reason at all, even though he still wondered about it.

* * *

Lovino was partially thankful that he did not need to dance. No one had asked him to, so far, and neither was there anyone he'd like to ask himself.

Still, though. Sitting at the edge of the platform, watching and listening as Feliciano swayed away with Mirella, was making him more and more bitter for every second. Ludwig was being persuaded by some brown-haired cousin of his who was seemingly also German, but he kept declining, telling her that he did not dance. By the looks of it, Lovino thought the girl would win soon though, whether her buff of a cousin danced or not. Lovino did not know her, but the stubbornness and fire burning in her eyes could not be mistaken.

Kiku was not dancing. He was standing by a table, filled with various snacks and drinks as if the event had been a high school party in somebody's basement. Chatting away with someone (who Lovino could not tell who it was - since the person had his or her back turned against him) and looking genuinely comfortable.

Lovino however, was not very comfortable. He was bored, wondering if he should have another drink, wondering if there was anyone else here that he knew well enough to make conversation with, wondering if-

"Aren't you dancing?"

Lovino stiffened as the familiar voice made its way to his ears from behind him, sounding friendly, questioning, and perhaps just a tad tipsy. He needn't turn his head to know that it was without doubt the exact person he had been looking for the entire evening, even though he told himself that the glances he shot in between the crowds were just searches for anyone he knew. Not just one special person.

He still had to thank and apologise to Antonio though, so he also told himself that that was why he wanted to see him.

"I don't dance." Lovino explained firmly, sounding a lot more callous than he intended to.

Antonio sat down beside him, a reeking drink in his hand. Lovino scrunched his nose. What was that? Pure alcohol?

"Why not?" Antonio asked, sounding almost disappointed.

"Because," Lovino paused, leaving the words unsaid for a moment, "I can't." He finished, almost in a whisper. Not knowing how to dance wasn't exactly something he was excessively proud of, after all.

"Oh, come on," Antonio shoved his arm lightly, "anyone can dance. Look, even that German friend of yours is doing it!" Antonio pointed to Ludwig, who was now leading the shorter brunette rather stiffly. She looked happy either way though, having him moving out on the floor at all.

"You call_ that_ dancing?" Lovino said, causing them both to chuckle. "How do you know that I know him, anyway?" Lovino looked at the Spaniard beside him.

"I talked to Feli before," he explained, smiling amiably at Lovino, and making him wonder how the Spaniard had managed to steal time from the dancing Feliciano, "although he did mention you two not getting along too well."

Lovino shrugged a shoulder. They had barely spoken, so them not getting along well was only something one could assume to be correct so far. What was confirmed and obvious however, was that they could not lead a normal conversation.

"I guess not," he mumbled, no longer very concentrated. He watched his brother whispering and laughing together with Mirella, moving her back and forth across the floor. He was a bit jealous, actually. He knew he had charms just as strong, but he still did not have a date to bring here, which bothered him to no end. Whether it had been mandatory or not, the fact that his brother had brought a nice and good-looking girl here, and he had not, was nagging in the back of his mind.

He could not dance, but he still would have liked someone to give him the option to do so, anyway.

"You haven't been in the restaurant for a while." Lovino stated, an indistinct question luring behind his clear remark.

"Ah, no, I haven't really had the time," Antonio explained, a sheepish tone in his voice, "I've been kind of short on money, so I started doing some chores for different families. If you find the right ones, you'll be very well paid." Antonio winked at Lovino, making him feel like a little kid taking advice from his parent, or teacher. He huffed slightly, looking out across the dance floor again.

"What kind of chores?"

"Well, you know," Antonio shrugged, "walking dogs, painting rooms, mowing lawns..."

The Italian nodded confirmatory, realising that he was actually a bit surprised. Lovino had taken for granted that Antonio came from a very well off family, for unknown reasons. It was not as if the Spaniard glowed of money, no, his ambiance did not scream 'wealth'... But Lovino had just guessed. Wrong, at that, too. He discarded his thoughts for the time being, his cheek pressed against his palm as he watched the people dancing in front of him. The songs seemed to be slowing down vaguely, having more and more people slow-dancing. Lovino had to look away from the excessively intimate, slow, and (with some couples) seductive movements. Whether from bitterness and jealousy, or awkwardness, he knew not.

"Isn't that kind of tiring?" Lovino mumbled, his hand against his face muffling the words a bit.

"It's worth it," Antonio shrugged, before getting up from the floor, leaving his drink behind, "come on."

He held his hand out towards Lovino, a crooked but lovely smile gracing his features. Lovino's head lifted from his hand, his cheek red from it, and he gave Antonio a puzzled look.

"Where are we going?" He asked, reluctantly taking the offered help to stand, ignoring his pride telling him that the gesture was giving Antonio superiority. That was of course not acceptable at all.

The Spaniard cast a glance at the dancing people, seemingly pondering some thoughts that he kept to himself. He bit his bottom lip pensively, before turning around and jumping down from the platform into the damp, green grass. Lovino stood dumbly for a moment before copying his actions, leaving the dance floor behind in curiosity of what Antonio had in mind for them.

The latter stuffed his hands into his pockets, sighing comfortably and looking genuinely satisfied with nothing else than the night itself. Lovino hurried to catch up with him, watching as Antonio greeted a few people that passed them, before they got out onto the street. He felt a tad uncomfortable, being clueless as to what Antonio was planning. Perhaps he was not planning at all. Lovino might be mistaken, taking for granted all these personality traits that he had yet to have the Spaniard confirm, but Antonio actually seemed like someone very capable of doing spontaneous things like this. Looking as if he had control, as if he had a mental schedule... When really, truthfully, it was all just an impulse. All on a whim. Maybe Lovino would find out if his little theory was true or not, tonight.

"Where are you heading?" Lovino spoke up, feeling unable to be patient for longer.

Antonio shrugged. "Where do you want to go?" His smile, pointed at Lovino, seemed to be nearly glowing in the darkening city around them. The light seemed to be going out rather quickly tonight. But the sky was still blue, and the buildings, the street, the people around them were still visible. However, the river was looking vast and dark, and the streetlights were turned on. It was only a matter of time before the sun went down entirely, nothing to keep the lamp-less parts of the world lit up except for the stars and the moon, sparkling like expensive jewelry.

Lovino let out a huff of laughter, shaking his head slightly. Where did he want to go? There were quite a few places he wanted to visit, actually. Far from here. Close to here. He could and would go most anywhere, as long as he got away. He wanted to visit exotic cities, he wanted to explore new cultures and meet new people. God knows if he would be good at such an independent (and social) task, but damn it, he was going to try. He would rather try, and fail, than rot in a place he had been stuck in for too long, which wasn't even that long, after all. It was a short period of time, but the idea of being here forever was dawning on Lovino. Of course, the city of Florence held no bigger flaws in his opinion, and he had no real reason for wanting to leave. He simply did. It was a wish his body, soul, and heart was craving, without informing his brain much.

He decided against enlightening Antonio about these matters for the time being, however. Still, the Spaniard was looking at him, curious about what was going on in Lovino's mind, and if he in fact had a desired destination.

"I don't know," he said lamely, "I... Er, well, I suppose we should be at the-" Lovino spoke, stopping and pointing with his thumb back towards the library.

"We don't _have_ to be anywhere right now, Lovino." Antonio's smile was as amiable as ever. "Where do you _want_ to go?"

Lovino snorted. "Home?"

This made Antonio chuckle, and he turned to start walking again. Lovino followed. "Where would the fun in that be, though?"

Lovino did not answer. He shook his head again, trying to refrain from smiling too widely. He felt Antonio's stare fixated on him, and he met it with questioning eyes. "What?"

"I'm serious, we could-"

"I don't know where I want to go!" Lovino interrupted, gesturing with his hands. Really, to him, they could continue on along the river beside the street. See how far it took them. See who and what they might come across. What they might see. Perhaps an adventure was waiting in this familiar city, if they walked far enough. Or they could always return. They could have some more alcohol-filled drinks, and they could watch people dance, they could laugh at things that weren't even funny, if they got drunk enough; they could experience being friends just like right now, unlike their other meetings when Antonio hadn't accomplished much more than getting on Lovino's nerves, and all Lovino had proved was that he was strict and touchy.

He was a bit surprised, actually. Perhaps it was the fact that both him and Antonio had a little alcohol in their blood already. Perhaps it was the friendly, upbeat atmosphere affecting them, but as if they had known each other for years and had never encountered unpleasant events together, they walked on in light silence, not even noticing the way the night was creeping up on them. It was already almost twice as dark as when they left.

"So who's that girl dancing with your brother?" Antonio broke the verbal silence floating between them.

"Her name's Mirella," Lovino explained, hand rubbing his neck a bit, "she's from Naples, apparently."

"Ah," Antonio nodded, still not feeling a whole lot wiser. He did not recognise her name or any of the like, but then again, he was not from here, and did not know many people. "Didn't you bring a date?"

Lovino scowled. Good subject. Perfect, even. Of all the topics the Spaniard could have chosen... "No, I did not."

"Why not?" He smiled kindly at Lovino, who felt a vicious urge to bring their conversation elsewhere.

With a sigh, he answered Antonio's question nevertheless. "Well... W-why didn't you bring a date yourself?"

It was not much of an answer. In fact, Lovino knew that it was rather rude, replying to a question with another question. But to be quite frank he did not care. At least not with Antonio. And especially not when the question having been aimed at himself was a rather insulting one, according to Lovino. It was none of Antonio's business, whether or not Lovino had a date, and to ask him to explain why he did not.

The Spaniard shrugged, the corners of his lips still pointing casually upwards. Discarding that smile seemed to be a hard task for him. "I didn't know you had to."

"You don't _have_ to," the Italian said quietly. A breath of laughter through Antonio's nose could be heard.

He made a sudden stop, earning a questioning glance from Lovino. Antonio was of course still smiling, but now looking out over the water beside the street. It was nearly colourless, aside from its surroundings captured as if on a canvas on the surface, moving from side to side, disturbing the images, together with the calm waves.

He folded his arms and rested them upon the stone wall separating them from the river. Lovino walked up to stand beside him, his eyes exploring the sight displayed. A small motorboat passed them, making unusual little sound. An old man with grey, pulled back hair drove it, whistling as he went. Lovino buried his hands in his pockets, noticing that the temperature had turned during the night.

"Maybe we should go back," he suggested, imagining the sweaty air and consuming of alcohol drinks heating him up. He wasn't too used to much else than wine, but no one was there to judge (or tell on him. Roma could be very strict, sometimes) when he tried on various other beverages.

"If you want to." Antonio stood up straight, one of his hands still lingering on the stone wall. "What time is it?" He then asked, his eyes shifting to look at the Italian beside him.

Lovino shrugged his shoulders. He often wore his silvery, thick wrist watch, which he had received as a birthday presents from his grandfather two years ago. But tonight was not one of those nights, however, and just now he realised that he had also left his phone at home. He rarely got many calls from anyone but Roma or Feliciano either way, and if their grandpa felt the need to contact them, then surely the younger Vargas had brought his.

Being completely distanced from time was an odd feeling. But still a striking and soothing one. Surely the night was still young, despite the quick lack of light, so there really wasn't much need to worry about what hour it might be.

"I don't know," he answered, starting to slowly walk back the direction they had come from. Antonio followed.

"It's already getting dark." The latter noted, rubbing his arm in need of warmth. It was not freezing or so, considering that it was still Italy, but the night wore on with its chilly breezes, tickling exposed skin and engendering goosebumps on it.

"That's because it's early in the year," Lovino argued, "I don't think it's very late yet."

Antonio didn't protest to that, but just walked silently beside Lovino back to the lively event. Not much seemed to have changed since they left. Clock-less as they had been, Lovino knew not for how long they had been gone, but about twenty or thirty minutes seemed reasonable. In that time, the only thing that had changed seemed to be the amount of people dancing. A handful of couples were now standing out of breath with a drink in hand; chatting with acquaintances; stuffing their tongues down each others throats in bad hiding places.

Lovino was unable to spot his brother, and wondered briefly if he had occupied himself with the last mentioned action together with Mirella, before he recognised Ludwig walking some distance away, with Lovino's younger sibling clinging to his arm, saying something that made them both laugh. Ludwig covered his mouth and closed his eyes, hushing Feliciano who let his head fall back and his mouth open widely in laughter.

Lovino questioned why he would ditch his cute and perfect-declared little girlfriend for that German, but of course, he had never completely understood his brother's way of thinking anyway. The boy marched to the beat of his own drum sometimes, so to speak.

A huff was heard from Antonio, and Lovino turned to see him walking towards the spot they had been sitting by before.

"Someone stole my drink!" He mumbled, his arms folded over his chest.

Lovino snorted, "That's too bad," he said, "did you really think these drunks were going to leave it be 'til you came back?"

"I don't even think they knew it was mine," Antonio smiled again, "ah, come on!" he motioned for Lovino to follow him as he climbed up onto the platform, ignoring the small stairs a few feet away.

Lovino followed, sighing softly as soon as he was standing straight again upon the dance floor. He quickly recognised the song playing, and scrunched his nose. As much as he liked the music of his country, this particular one had never struck him with much enjoyment.

A warm hand grasped his arm loosely, and he turned his head only to have Antonio nearly bumping their noses together as he leaned in to say something. The music drowned out most sound, especially now that they were standing so close to the source of it.

Antonio let out a breath of laughter, "Sorry," he mouthed, before leaning closer to Lovino's ear, "do you want to dance?"

Lovino - whose face was already blooming with rich colour - stiffened a bit where he stood. He shook his head quickly, earning a small chuckle from Antonio.

"Why not?" His hand released Lovino's arm slowly, taking with it the warmth it had provided.

The song came to an end, leaving them with a few seconds of silence and chance for conversation. Lovino looked out over the people in front of and around them, seeing as some of the couples parted, smiling and thanking each other before stepping down from the platform.

"I told you before," Lovino said, "I can't dance."

Antonio unhooked Lovino's arms from each other, dragging him further towards the middle of the dance floor. "I'm going to have to teach you then, aren't I?"

Lovino scowled, ready to argue, before the next song went on. The calm guitar plucking had a melancholy, yet soothing and beautiful tone to it, and the Italian quickly recognised it from when he was younger. This one, he did not despise like the previous. In fact, he knew the entire song by heart.

Shaking his head to himself, Lovino wondered why he was actually going along with this. He had decided long before he even arrived tonight that he would not be dancing. He would not be humiliating himself by trying. Yet, here he was, doing just that. And with no other person than the customer he had decided to dislike so much. The one person who got on his nerves like he did. And now, the one person who Lovino owed after that night of rain and pathetic behaviour. Were they actually friends now?

"Beautiful song, this one, isn't it?" Antonio said, sounding almost dreamily as he arranged where Lovino's hands would be. A frown spread across the Italian's face as he realised he was not going to be leading. "Just try to move to the rhythm of the music, and don't step on me, all right?"

_In un mondo che,_

Antonio started to move, Lovino following with his hands trembling slightly and his eyes locked on his uncertain feet.

_non ci vuole più,_

He could hear his own breathing, despite the shuffling of feet and the volume of the music. He could hear his heartbeat, his thoughts, louder than ever.

_il mio canto libero sei tu. E l'immensità, si apre intorno a noi, al di là del limite degli occhi tuoi.  
Nasce il sentimento, nasce in mezzo al pianto, e s'innalza altissimo e va.  
E vola sulle accuse della gente, a tutti i suoi retaggi indifferente, sorretto da un anelito d'amore... di vero amore..._

Lovino swallowed thickly. As he had had the luck to be pulled into this nonsense with a song that was slow, and actually familiar to him, it proved not to be a very big challenge for him to keep speed and rhythm up. He raised his gaze slowly, an unfamiliar sensation spreading throughout his body as he found Antonio already looking back at him.

_In un mondo che prigioniero è, respiriamo liberi io e te.  
E la verità, si offre nuda a noi e, e limpida è l'immagine... ormai..._

An indistinct smile traced his soft expression, causing faint wrinkles beneath the tinted apples of his cheeks. His deeply chartreuse green eyes were scanning Lovino's everything. Every inch of his face, his movements, and his body.

_Nuove sensazioni, giovani emozioni, si esprimono purissime... in noi.  
La veste dei fantasmi del passato, cadendo lascia il quadro immacolato, e s'alza un vento tiepido d'amore, di vero amore._

"You're a natural talent, Lovino." Antonio complimented, his voice audible enough for Lovino to catch his words without asking him to repeat himself. The song became more powerful, with more vocals and more instruments and feeling, but it was still a rather mild ballad. Antonio's grip on Lovino softened, allowing him to move more on his own. His hand holding Lovino's shifted a bit, spreading its fingers out before tangling them in between the nervous Italian's. He could not hear it, but as Antonio closed his eyes, he knew that the guy was humming along to the song. Probably just to tease Lovino a little, knowing that most anything would exasperate him in such a timid moment.

Lovino knew not if Antonio was doing it all on purpose, but he seemed so enigmatic. It made Lovino curious and withdrawn at the same time. He wanted to see Antonio's intentions. He wanted to find out what was going on among his thoughts, but he also wanted to get out. Now.

Antonio's eyes looked so vibrant, so full of spirit. His hand rested on Lovino's side as if it belonged there. He made Lovino certain in himself by floating across the floor with him perfectly.

A sudden squeeze to Antonio's hand, causing him to look at Lovino again, and then he stopped in his tracks, lowering their entangled fingers.

"What is it, Lovino?" Worry sounded insubstantially in Antonio's voice, as he leaned closer to make sure they heard each other.

Lovino shook his head, swallowing dryly. "I- I, er..." He looked out towards the library, a big clock on the front of it, which he had not noticed before. "I should... go..."

Antonio looked a bit apprehensive. "Are you feeling ill?" He asked.

"No, I just..." Words did not come easy for Lovino right now. Something blocked his ability to say anything logical, it seemed, and he could only utter stammered sentences. He realised that their hands were still clasped, and they were still holding each others bodies, and he took a step backwards, giving room for air between them, unlike a second ago.

Antonio's eyes still screamed worry, but he smiled nevertheless. "Should we go for another walk?"

Anything. Yes, that. Lovino nodded, letting out a soft breath of relief. Antonio nodded as well, taking his other hand to pull him out of the dancing crowd and down onto the grass.

* * *

_AN: Gah, this chapter was so much fun to write. I stopped writing for a while, just before the dance scene, since I was so nervous about it. It's rather important, and I wanted to get it right. Still not sure if I am completely satisfied or not, though._

_Eventually I managed to write it either way, twice, actually, since my stupid computer failed to save it the first time. I nearly went mad when I realised I had to re-do it all. _

_Well anyways, here comes the translation to the lyrics shown in this chapter. Note that I don't know Italian, so I don't know how correctly translated it is (I just sort of copied the text from a site I found), and I may have done punctuation wrong... Er, so, if anybody finds any faults, I'd love it if you'd inform me so I can change them._

_"In the world which doesn't have us any more, my song of freedom is you._  
_The immensity, it's opening around us, beyond your eyes._  
_A sense is getting born, it's getting born among tears, and raising high, and flying._  
_And it's flying above people's condemnation, above all their indifferent heritages,_  
_supported with the thirst of love. A true love._

_In the world which looks like a prison, we breathe freely, you and me._  
_And the truth is becoming apparent._  
_And a pure picture, now._  
_New sensations, young emotions, they express all the most purest in us._  
_New sensations, new feelings, they express all the most purest in you._

_The image of a ghost from the past, falling, is leaving a pure picture._  
_And a warm wind of love is raising, of a true love."_

_**Il Mio Canto Libero** - Lucio Battisti (/watch?v=UKYohc4P21c)  
_


	6. Chapter 6

Lovino ran a hand through his slightly sweaty hair, his laughter hushed as he held steadily to the drink in his hand. The small bottle was twinkling with beams of light bouncing against it from lamps and stars, only a handful of drops left inside of it. Nevertheless, Lovino repeatedly brought it to his lips, vainly trying to taste the remains of the beverage on his tongue. He wasn't too sure what Antonio was talking about anymore, but it must have been something insanely amusing, as they were both chuckling endlessly, arms locked together to steady each other.

The young Italian had not been drunk a lot of times, and the small amount of alcohol he had actually consumed tonight would probably wash away easily with some gulps of water. His mind was sober enough to know that it was enough by now, unless he wanted to stumble and break everything in his home and wake Roma up later when Lovino returned home. Perhaps this was the reason he refused to give up on his bottle and start on a new one. Either way, he was probably affected enough to fall without Antonio's strong arm holding him in place already. But he'd give it some time, he decided, until he could walk by himself. Then he would head home again. It was probably rather late by now.

He managed to either ignore any clocks around him, or simply not register what they told him about the current hour, but time seemed to move fast as the people around them were suddenly only a handful, some looking exceptionally tired and exhausted, while some were seemingly passed out (whether from alcohol or anything else, Lovino hadn't a clue).

But he and Antonio were far from affected. They managed to make the most out of the night, creating experiences within all the various party tents and their offers, the small ferris wheel that had children fixing weird looks at their direction as they rode it with a strangely big amount of amusement, and they even danced a few more times. Not on the platform, but on the damp ground, swaying and laughing and falling over from time to time.

Walking along the stone wall framing the river some distance away from the heart of the event, Lovino felt light-headed, but somewhat sobered up. At least compared to the peak of the alcohol's effects. He was able to walk by himself again, though the quick downfall of his tipsy mind had given him a headache. Drinks did but go hard on an inexperienced body, it seemed.

Antonio seemed a lot more used to this. His steps had been wobbly and his voice slurred, but he still had some common sense left (which wasn't all too usual for most drunks). Through his pointless rambling about things that were barely even audible, but made them laugh, he was able to continuously ask Lovino if he was all right. If he was okay. If he wanted to go home, or another drink.

"I wanna walk on the... the wall..." Lovino mumbled to himself, breaking his unsteady pace down the street to place his palms on the stone wall beside them. Antonio looked at him, his grin fading away as he registered the Italian's words. The man's brows knitted together in a questioning manner.

"No!" He sounded incredulous, almost as if Lovino's words had been a rumour about someone extremly important.

The younger nodded, "Uh-huh," he confirmed, nearly falling over in attempts of swinging one leg up on the wall. Luckily, Antonio was there to keep him from meeting with the concrete. "Th... The road is so..." he looked down at the ground with sceptical eyes, "boring."

Antonio laughed exuberantly, weakly trying to keep Lovino down.

"I don't know if that is such a great idea, Lovino," he argued, amusement filling his voice, "you might fall over and hurt yourself."

"Nah," Lovino waved a hand dismissively, pushing the Spaniard further away and trying his luck at climbing the wall once again. It still proved to be a challenge for him, but he did get his leg up, at least. "I'm fine. I'll be careful."

"You might fall in," Antonio motioned a hand towards the dark, indistinct waves.

Lovino laughed, but Antonio's eyes still held a bit of worry in them as he looked at the Italian, making it clear that he still wasn't wasted enough to be up for spontaneous, perhaps life-threatening experiments like balancing between a road and a river. Lovino's laughter died out, but he still forced himself up on the stone wall.

Standing on all fours, a proud grin graced his features. He slowly rose up, nearly falling back onto the road as he got up on his feet, but managed to regain his balance. Antonio offered a hand for him, but it did not seem to be of that much help, really. Lovino took it anyway, though.

"Where's your brother?" Antonio's voice was muffled by the palm rubbing his face, but Lovino was able to detect his words nevertheless, wondering what made the Spaniard think of Feliciano all of a sudden.

And, where _was_ Feliciano? Lovino had no idea.

The wobbly Italian shrugged, but as Antonio did not see it, he tugged a bit at Lovino's hand, requesting an answer.

"I don't know," Lovino slurred, knitting his brows together, "why?"

"I was just thinking that maybe... ah, m-maybe you wanted to go home with'im."

Lovino's hand raised in the air, waving dismissively at the assumption, "I don't," he said, "he's probably being led home by that blonde jerk anyway."

Antonio's face took that of a confused look, his grip tightening on Lovino's hand as he felt the shorter male lean a little bit too much towards the water.

"Ah, but... Ma... Mirella's hair was brown, wasn'it?"

"Not her!" Lovino exclaimed slightly too loudly, startling himself a little, "the b-bu... German, uh, Ludwig!"

"Oh!" Antonio nodded quickly, "of course!"

"Asshat," Lovino spat, amusement filling his cracking voice and a red hue across his face. The nickname made Antonio laugh again, loudly, his voice bouncing against the houses and echoing slightly. He stopped to hunch down a bit, eyes pressed shut and both hands covering Lovino's right one, tugging just a little too forcefully, having the Italian nearly colliding down onto Antonio (or the road, depending on how quick his natural reflexes were).

"Gah! Careful!" Lovino scolded, pulling his hand loose from Antonio's and falling backwards, a short, startled scream escaping him as his feet parted from the wall and his body descended through the air. The Spaniard stood up, one hand wiping a tear from his eye as the other reached to grab Lovino, but failed its attempt. The scene sunk in, and his eyes widened as he realised what happened. Lovino disappeared beneath the surface with a loud splash and Antonio's voice shouting after him.

"Lovino!" He leaned over the wall, waiting for the boy to shoot up, coughing and scowling and most probably hollering swearwords at the Spaniard. But as none of this happened, Antonio was quickly up on the wall himself. "Dammit..." He muttered, before diving into the disturbed water, careful not to land where Lovino had.

He could not see beneath the rippling waves, and he cussed again (internally) before escalating above the surface, his knuckles rubbing his now sore eyes.

Antonio's hearing detected splashing beside him, and a voice tore through with bubbling laughter. He managed to crack his eyes open, meeting with the sight of Lovino moving his arms to float beside him, his head leaned back and his body shaking with laughter and cold.

"L-Lovino?" Antonio asked uncertainly, a smile forming on his face, but his mind still wondering about his friend's actions. He moved his arms as well, keeping himself from sinking further into the freezing liquid. _Damn_, it was cold.

The Italian kept laughing, floating closer to place a hand on Antonio's shoulder. The latter started chuckling, shaking his head.

"You didn't hit your head, did'ya?"

Lovino shook his head, his ebullient laughter dying out. He closed his mouth, his body still bouncing every now and then from small chuckles escaping him.

"Ah, it's very cold in here, m-maybe we should get up?" Antonio suggested, one of his arms circling around Lovino's slender waist.

Lovino nodded, covering his mouth with a hand. Antonio couldn't help but to notice, now, in his sane but drunken state, that there was an impeccable beauty in the honesty of Lovino's laughter. Such a different side to the abrasive, cussing boy, he thought. This one was wonderful. This one made Antonio smile even more than usually. Perhaps he should get Lovino drunk more often, he thought with a shake of his head. Or not. But he definitely wanted to see Lovino beaming like this all the time.

* * *

That night, Lovino had been walked home by Antonio and yelled at by Roma for being so late, soaked and obviously drunk. The young Italian couldn't really care less though, for despite his reckless behaviour, he'd had insanely fun. He went to bed, noticing that Feliciano was already asleep when he entered their bedroom with warm, dry clothes; brushed teeth; and a euphoric, spinning feeling in his gut.

During breakfast, Roma was evidently showing his dismay towards his grandson by keeping a superior, "I-do-not-approve-of-this"-frown on his face and barely speaking to him. Lovino thought him rather childish, but understood that he was but teaching Lovino just what was allowed or not. Getting drunk and jumping into a river was apparently not something Lovino's grandfather appreciated very much. He'd make a mental note of that.

Meanwhile, Feliciano was gleefully rambling on about his new, German friend, which Roma seemed to actually be quite interested in, as it turned out the blonde was related to their grandfather's old friend who he'd worked in the restaurant with. It seemed to Lovino as if Roma really missed this comrade of his, and he really wondered what brought them apart. Either way, he was not very fond of either of the North-Europeans in question, truth be told. He dispraised Ludwig for reasons already stated, and all he could remember about Roma's chum was that he used to frighten Lovino to no end. The man never spoke too much, and he had a very stoic ambiance that did far from put Lovino at ease. Feliciano used to try and talk to the man all the time though, which never turned out successfully, as he was too young to make much sense. Especially since he only spoke Italian back then. The kid never seemed to mind much that his conversing never got much else response but a hand ruffling his hair and his grandfather laughing, telling him to go and play with his brother instead, though.

"What happened to your little damsel then, Feli?" the older of the two asked, taking a sip of his still hot coffee.

"My dam... Oh! Mirella? Well, she... um..." Feliciano sat back in his chair, scratching his head sheepishly, aware that Lovino's question was more judging than wondering.

"You ditched her for that broad-shouldered bastard, huh?"

"Be nice, Lovino." Roma reminded, sending him a disapproving glance over the edge of the news paper in his hands. Lovino ignored his order, however.

"I didn't _ditch_ her for Ludwig," Feliciano tried to explain, "I just, ah..."

"Exchanged her? Replaced? Switched?"

"Lovi!"

The Italian laughed, shaking his head. They both knew that that was just what his younger brother had done, despite the fact that giving up on a miss like that was unimaginable and unforgivable. Especially to Feliciano, who seemed to prioritize lasses higher than most else.

Fortunately for the latter, their escalating conversation was interrupted by the ringing of their telephone. Lovino stood to answer, quickly noticing the relief in his brother's eyes as he left.

He answered with the restaurant name like always, a chill running down his spine at the very familiar voice on the other end, which he couldn't quite put a finger on whose it was, at first.

"Ah, is Lovino there?" An exotic, Spanish accent tinted the words.

"This is him speaking." Lovino said, sitting down on a small stool in the corner of the kitchen.

"Oh, hi! This is Antonio!"

"Uh... Hi," Lovino answered, rubbing his neck awkwardly.

"I, er... I didn't have your mobile number so... I called the restaurant," the Spaniard explained with a chuckle.

_'Obviously'_, Lovino thought. Antonio went on.

"I was just wondering if you wanted to hang out today or something?"

Lovino furrowed his brows. Hang out? Had he not had enough of Lovino after last nights festivities? Besides, Lovino felt rather tired, thanks to the light hangover that topped his misery with a very vicious headache (which he had managed to bring down with some painkillers), he'd supposed Antonio would feel quite the same.

"Ugh, I don't know," Lovino said, making it sound like the most tiring suggestion possibly offered. Which, at the moment, it might just have been. Next to re-living last night's glory.

"I know you're probably tired, but I'll go easy on you!" Antonio laughed, "And I also have some aspirin if-"

"No, that's fine," Lovino said, holding a hand up despite the fact that Antonio could not see him, "I just... I... don't think it's such a good idea." He said, unsure of how he would get himself out of this. He did not hate Antonio. Not anymore. But would he really accept befriending this guy already? He was a bit obstinate towards the suggestion.

"Oh... Why not?"

Lovino bit his tongue, nervously fretting for a good answer. "I just... Ah, I don't... U-um..." He stammered on.

"Aw, come on Lovino! Just this once?"

"N-No," Lovino said, firmly, despite the stuttering, "I just... I don't want to, all right?"

Antonio chuckled again, "Fine," he said, "but what if... Ah, what if I asked a favour of you, hm?"

Lovino's brows knitted together. It wasn't as if he owed the guy anything. He was still a bit curious as to what the Spaniard had in mind, though. "What favour?"

"I need your help with something."

"What?"

"You'll see."

"No, tell me now."

"I'll come by in ten minutes, okay?"

"Tell me _now_!"

"Bye, Lovino, see you!"_ Click_.

* * *

Just like he said, Antonio was there after ten minutes. It was a Saturday, which meant the restaurant was still open, but Feliciano had come with the suggestion to ask Francis to work there instead of Lovino. Just for the day. The Frenchman had gladly done them the favour, saying that he was actually quite skilled in the kitchen. Lovino wasn't sure if he trusted the man to succeed with the Italian dishes however, but he might as well enjoy seeing the guy fail his attempts. That'd be entertaining. At least, if you looked past the chance of him ridding them from customers. That was, of course, the downside of it all.

"We're gonna... paint a house?!"

"A room!"

Lovino shook his head in disbelief, letting out an incredulous laughter. So that was the favour Antonio had asked of him. This was probably another thing he did to earn some pocket money, Lovino guessed. Supposedly it was for another wealthy family.

"I'm not doing fucking charity work with you."

"It's not charity work," Antonio knitted his brows, "we're getting paid."

Lovino swatted his hand in the air dismissively. "Whatever. You're weird. This is weird."

Antonio laughed. "Why is it?"

"Because!" Lovino spat, crossing his arms and glaring at the clothes Antonio had brought for him. He thought that to be good, at least. That he wouldn't have to stain his own garments.

"Good argument," Antonio winked at him, holding the offered outfit out closer to the Italian, "come on, now! We don't have all day!"

Lovino muttered a few cuss words under his breath, snatching the clothes and walking into a different room to change.

"This is still the weirdest date ever, you jerk." He noted, freezing at his own words. "W-Wh... I mean, uh..." He turned to look at Antonio, who seemed just as surprised as himself. "Get-together... Um..."

The Spaniard let out a nervous laugh, shooing Lovino away with his hands. "Just go change, all right, Lovino?"

"I-It just slipped out, okay!"

"It's fine!"

Lovino's face was blooming with rich, burning colour. "B-Better be."

* * *

Lovino's eyes darted around them as they entered the room. All the furniture had been moved outside, and the only thing left was the light streaming in through the big glass window, shooting rays to bump between the white walls. Lovino thought it too big to be called just a 'room'. It was more of a hall. He wondered briefly what this place was to be used for.

"So what kind of room is this, anyway?" He spoke up, "Do they dance in here or something?"

Antonio chuckled lightly, shaking his head. He looked up at the ceiling, taking in all the brightness of the place.

"I don't think so. They never really told me what it was for, actually." He said, scratching the back of his head sheepishly. Lovino crossed his arms over the borrowed clothes on his body.

"What if it's some sort of torture chamber or something," Lovino wagged his fingers, trying to give his words some sort of spooky feeling. Antonio simply laughed, however. Which had originally been Lovino's intentions, of course.

"I highly doubt that," He said, hands on his hips, his emerald orbs flickering down to meet Lovino's hazel ones, "With those revealing windows." Antonio nodded his head towards the huge, framed glass behind them. Lovino looked over at them.

"Ever heard of curtains?"

Antonio laughed again: an action he seemed to be doing a lot. It was also a sound that had started to grow on Lovino, though he would never utter a word to the Spaniard of how his laugh gave Lovino goosebumps sometimes. The simple act of laughing had always been said to be contagious though.

Antonio nodded. "Fair enough. We're painting a torture chamber." He settled, offering a playful smile at Lovino, who returned it with a small, mischievous one of his own.

"What colour is it going to be?" He asked, leaning a bit to the side to keep eye contact with Antonio as he sat down on his knees to remove the lid from the paint can. There were quite a few, and with a cracking sound, said Spaniard opened them all, revealing a deep, dark pink colour. Lovino read the label on one of the buckets. "Claret wine coloured paint," He said out loud, scrunching his nose a bit at the fancy title. Antonio looked up at him. A small, kind smile playing along his lips.

"You don't like it?"

Lovino was quiet for a few seconds, before shrugging his shoulders. "It's nice, I guess."

Antonio smiled a bit wider and stood up. "Ah, I think it's a lovely colour. But anyway, I guess we should just get started, hm? Paintbrushes are over here," he said, walking over to what seemed to be an old paint can. It was now empty of paint, however, and filled with brushes and paint rollers instead. Antonio picked up two of the latter kind, handing one of them to Lovino.

The Italian leaned down over the buckets, coating his paint roller with the wine resembling colour. He noticed now that the floor was covered with a layer of plastic, to keep from getting paint on the polished wooden ground.

Lovino looked up at the wall, placing the paint roller up against it, causing the slick colour to stain and drip down from it. He moved the roller up and down, reaching as high as he could every time.

Antonio appeared beside him, copying his movements with a more practiced and steadied pace. He looked as if he had done this a million times before. Lovino figured however, that he probably had.

"You're doing good, Lovino," Antonio spoke up, moving a little further away to cover some more of the wall, "keep this up and we'll be done in no time!"

Lovino couldn't help but to roll his eyes. "Stop praising me, you idiot. We've only just begun anyway." He said, not sounding just as annoyed as he'd intended. Truth be told, Antonio's compliments always got through to him, and the way his cheeks would blossom up in that pale carmine colour gave him away quite a lot. Fortunately for Lovino, the guy was not looking at him at the moment, and hopefully did not notice his flushed face. Maybe he knew anyway, though. Antonio was probably used to it by now.

The latter chuckled quietly. "I'm not praising you, I'm just encouraging you. What's wrong with that?"

"It's embarrassing." Lovino stated, keeping his eyes on his working hand.

"Embarrassing?"

"A-annoying." He corrected, feeling Antonio's questioning gaze on him. The latter stopped moving for a few seconds, before letting out a chuckle and shaking his head.

"You sure are a special kind of guy, Lovino." He said, as if it was the most obvious and normal thing to do. However, it made the hair on Lovino's neck stand, in a way he could not decide whether it was pleasant or not. So he just kept quiet while painting the wall in front of him.

Silence lay heavy over them for a few minutes, though it made Lovino calm. He felt more comfortable like this, rather than having the Spaniard uttering things that made Lovino stutter and fret. After a few moments though, Antonio spoke up again.

"We should've had some music, don't you think?" He said, looking around them, as if thinking that he'd find a radio if he searched hard enough. Lovino nodded in response, not really caring much if it was quiet or not. Antonio, however, seemed ready to do whatever it took for them to have some sort of background noises.

He began humming rather silently, but it was enough for Lovino to notice and turn his head to look at the taller male. Antonio furrowed his brows a little, muttering, "how was it again..." to himself, before his face lit up and he beamed a smile at Lovino, bursting into song.

"That's it! _In un mondo che, non ci vuole più!_" He sang, taking a step backwards, reaching an arm out dramatically. Lovino simply shook his head at him.

"No. You're not going t-"

"_Il mio canto libero sei tu!_"

"Th-That song is supposed to be a slow-"

"_E l'immensità, si apre intorno a noi, _come on Lovino, you've heard it before, haven't you? _Al di là del limite..._"

"What are you..." Lovino broke off, suddenly hit by a very vivid memory of him and Antonio dancing together, swaying in the rhythm of a song that was in fact _very_ similar to this one. A dark hue applied to his cheeks, and he closed his eyes, shaking his head again.

"..._degli occhi tuoi_," Antonio sang, a little quieter and calmer this time. He took a few steps closer to the blushing Italian, smirking at him. Lovino swallowed heavily, as Antonio's voice lowered, almost whispering his singing. "_Nasce il sentimento, nasche in mezzo al pianto... E s'innalza altissimo e va._"

Lovino stared at the man, who was suddenly standing a whole lot closer. "Your Italian sucks," He managed to say, not being sure whether he wanted to look Antonio in the eyes or not. Antonio let out a breath of laughter at this. "As usual." Lovino murmured.

Antonio's smile softened, and his eyes moved further down, making Lovino freeze where he stood.

"_E vola sulle accuse della gente,_" He reached a hand out, gracefully brushing a finger over Lovino's cheek, which was now burning and redder than ever. "_A tutti i suoi retaggi indifferente..._"

Something faced him though, when Antonio's soft finger parted from his skin, something wet and cold was left instead of it... _paint_. The Spaniard saw the realisation in Lovino's eyes, and snickered a bit, pressing his palm against Lovino's whole cheek, leaving a big, claret coloured mark behind. Automatically, Lovino's hand moved up to feel his face, and when he then looked at his own fingers, they were definitely not the olive skin tone they usually were.

"This colour really suits you, Lovino," Antonio chirped, walking back to continue with the wall, still humming the song he had just been singing.

"You motherfucker!" Lovino exclaimed, dropping the paint roller to the ground, his hands trying to wipe his cheek off in a frenzy. Antonio simply laughed at him.

"Come on, Lovino. Don't me mad! You were practically the same colour already, blushing like that!" He leaned closer to Lovino, winking at him. Lovino scowled deeply, waiting until the Spaniard turned his attention back to the wall, before he dipped both of his hands in the paint can, revenge in mind.

Antonio continued to whistle the song, turning his head to look at the Italian just as his face met with two drenched hands. Out of instinct, he backed up and leaned forward, letting out a startled cry.

"Ha ha! Who's laughing now, bastard?" Lovino proclaimed cockily, placing his hands on his hips in a stoic pose. Antonio stood up again, wiping a sleeve over his mouth and giving Lovino an exasperated look – a bit jokingly, but still.

"Oh, you want a fight, Lovi?"

Lovino opened his arms, shrugging his shoulders. "Sure thing. Come at me!" He encouraged. Antonio raised his eyebrows with a wicked smile. Paint roller still in hand, he took a few quick steps closer to Lovino, running it over his face with a dramatic gasp. He was soon nearly folded double though, in laughter, once he saw the thick line crossing the younger male's face. Lovino's superior spirit seemed to have been washed away quickly, replaced with competitiveness, and maybe just a tad of discontent. He bent down to pick up his own roller, giving Antonio a taste of his own medicine.

"You know what?" Lovino spoke up, "This won't do. No. I'll need something _stronger_, damn it!" He looked around, searching for the bucket of brushes, and walked up to it as soon as found, picking up a large paint brush. "Perfect." He stated, making his way over to the paint to cover the brush in it.

"All right, Lovi... I think that's enough, don't you?" Antonio suggested, raising his hands in surrender. He laughed nervously. "We still need to get these walls painted-"

"Shut up and _man _up, Antonio!" Lovino exclaimed, standing up straight with the dripping brush in hand. He walked up slowly towards the Spaniard, smirking. "I don't really mind winning this war and all, but it would be a lot more fun if you fought back. Come on, soldier! Give me your best shot!"

Antonio was silent for a few seconds, his eyes darting over to the bucket of brushes. Or weapons, in this case. "...Will you first let me grab a-"

"Too late!" Lovino announced, instantly whipping the paint brush in front of him, sending the colour flying and hitting Antonio. Soon enough, the man had made his way over to grab his own brush, coating it with paint as well to fight back towards the fierce Italian.

Many shrieks (manly, of course), declarations of revenge, and paint-attacks later, they were both drenched - just like the room - and pretty much out of breath.

"All right! A-All right, Lovino... Let's just call it a tie, hm?" Antonio raised a hand, his palm towards Lovino, who stopped in his tracks, lowering his grip on the ready-for-fight brush in his hand.

"That's no fun." He stated, crossing his arms.

Antonio smiled at him. "Sure it is!" He said, letting his own 'weapon' fall free from his hand, into one of the buckets. "Just come here and give me a hug instead, okay?"

Lovino furrowed his eyebrows, scoffing. "Why would I give you a hug, you idiot?"

"As a peace statement, of course!"

Lovino stood still for a moment, before hesitantly walking over to Antonio, who was standing with his arms stretched out and a warm smile on his face. Lovino smiled as well, a lot more wickedly, however. Before entering the awaiting embrace of the Spaniard, he let his paint brush meet with the man's face clumsily, letting out a small snicker. "I win."

Antonio turned his face away quickly, spluttering, before attacking back with his arms. "No way! That was cheating!" He exclaimed, encircling Lovino, who was now wiggling to get away, while laughing loudly. The young man was probably not aware of the wonderful effect _his_ laughter had on Antonio.

"Peace hug! Please, Lovi? No more war, hm?"

"No way!" He managed in between laughter and frantic breathing and cussing, as Antonio had now started tickling him as well. "S-Stop that! It's not fair, I dropped my paint brush, you jerk!"

"That's too bad, Lovino!" Antonio grinned widely, managing to get a better grip on the Italian, just as his foot stuck in front of Antonio's, causing them both to slip and fall flat on the ground.

Lovino landed on his back, Antonio on top of him, both of their laughing echoing loudly before fading away. Lovino felt secure in knowing that the blush now spreading on his skin couldn't be seen due to the paint covering it. But he had a feeling that he wasn't going to be able to hide the way his heartbeat increased furiously underneath the Spaniard.

Antonio hovered above him, the smile on his lips slipping away softly. Lovino seemed so warm, so soft.

Swallowing thickly, Antonio's eyes met with Lovino's, as they shared a nervous look. He gave him a small, kind smile, as if wanting to calm or encourage him. Maybe even ask for permission. Frankly, Lovino couldn't tell. But he realised Antonio's intentions when the man cupped his face gingerly, letting a thumb stroke over his deeply pink cheek, and leaned his face a bit closer. For a brief moment, Lovino was so sure that their paint coated faces would collide at the lips. He could feel a shiver of anticipation run down his spine, and let one of his hands move to Antonio's back, grabbing the fabric covering his tan skin. However, Lovino's thoughts wouldn't leave him alone. It seemed he still wasn't spontaneous enough to do something like this. So, letting his nerves and confusion take over, Lovino opened his eyes again and started moving underneath Antonio, who opened his eyes as well, startled when he was suddenly pushed off. Lovino stood up a little too quickly, feeling dizzy, but he ignored it.

"I-I should go..." He stammered, looking around as if he had any things that he didn't want to forget. It did not seem as if any of the objects in the room belonged to him, however, so he just turned around to walk towards the door. "We've been here for a while, and grandpa is probably worried." Lovino internally scolded himself for using such a lame excuse.

"Oh, okay," Antonio muttered quietly, propping himself up on his elbow, "it isn't very late though-"

"Goodbye, Antonio." Lovino cut him off, exiting the room.

The Spaniard let his head fall back onto the floor with a grunt, declaring himself stupid. Whatever had he been thinking? Supposedly, nothing. As entertaining as it sometimes was to cause Lovino to stammer, or blush, or cuss at him; kissing him wasn't really a good way to get that reaction. Back to square one, Antonio thought. Back to having Lovino hate him. Only this time he'd have to think some things over. Because why, for the love of God, why would he attempt to kiss his own _friend_?


	7. Chapter 7

_AN: I don't know if any of you noticed, but the rating went up to M. There won't be much M-contents yet, however, but I thought that it might be appropriate considering some of the swearwords appearing here and there._

_And also, I've been trying to update every Sunday for a while now, but this week I haven't had much of an internet connection, and I'm very dependent on my internet when writing. You know, researching and translating when my mind goes blank and such. So, evidently, this update is a little late. And unless there's a sudden miracle, the next one will probably be as well._

* * *

Lovino returned to the restaurant, walking in through the backdoor to avoid any confused or judging looks that might be fixed on him if he appeared in front of the customers, covered in paint.

"Lovino!" His grandfather's voice caught his attention. It did not sound pleased what so ever. Lovino swallowed nervously.

Roma was quickly in front of him, hands grabbing his grandson's shoulders to hold him at arms length, getting a good view of his claret-coloured boy.

"Where the hell have you been?" He asked, his eyes shifting between anger and confusion. "And who is that man in the kitchen? He doesn't even speak Italian, I-"

"I'm sorry," Lovino hurriedly apologised, "I just... I'll explain later, okay?"

"And why are you covered in paint?!"

Lovino sighed, looking down at the slightly too big clothes that were nearly as coated as his face. "Can I please get to change before you yell at me?"

Roma was quiet for a moment, before letting go of him.

"Thank you." Lovino retreated upstairs, fast to discard the borrowed clothes and put on new ones, as well as wash away the drying paint in his face (at least, as much as he could manage).

* * *

Lovino did not know if Roma had detected whatever state Lovino was in through his downcast, sorry eyes, but somehow he just knew that Lovino was deep in his thoughts. He was far from present, and scolding him for not doing his job was not going to get either of them anyway. Maybe Roma even understood that Lovino would take most chances of getting out. Lovino had in fact told his grandfather about his wishes of adventures, but he had never thought the man would actually take them into consideration.

Whatever his reasons might have been, he, much to Lovino's relief, went easy on the boy. It wasn't as if Lovino was not already aware of the fact that he had done wrong. Sneaking out, leaving an unfamiliar Frenchman (who Roma did actually seem to get along with fairly good, as it all turned out) in his place, ignoring his duties... Well these were clearly frowned upon by both bosses and guardians, of which Roma was both.

Two days later Lovino was back into the kitchen, and it seemed as if nobody was keen on paying their little place a visit. No more than three or four customers were sitting in the dining hall, rather quietly at that, too. Lovino had peeked out to find them all looking exceptionally tired. Perhaps it was just a slow day for everyone.

Feliciano had taken this opportunity to spend his time occupying his brother, who didn't have much to take care of in the kitchen. The younger sat on a small stool, leaned back against the wall, hands clasped over his stomach.

"I'm worried about grandpa," he admitted, ending the few minutes of silence after their pointless conversation about which football team was the best had died out.

Lovino looked up from the rearranging of spices he was doing, in lack of anything else to come up with. This would probably give him hell the next time they had another busy day, he thought, and he was digging his own grave and setting traps. A brief wonder of how many dishes he could manage to give the wrong flavour in a day crossed his mind, but he discarded it instantly. This wasn't of much importance, of course, but he should've probably tried to remember how they were usually placed and arranged them like that once again...

"He hasn't been feeling very well lately," the younger of the two went on, fright clear in his voice and glossy eyes. Roma was the only family they really had, save for each other.

"I know," Lovino spoke up, "but he said it was just a fever."

"I don't believe him." Feliciano stated firmly with a shake of his head and eyebrows pulled closely together.

Lovino shook his head as well, in a more incredulous fashion. Feliciano was just acting childishly, he deducted.

He refrained from answering, so his brother continued, "He keeps coughing all the time, and it's-"

"A fever, Feli, don't fret over it." Lovino stopped him, honestly not seeing what his sibling was so worked up about. People coughed, it was normal. Chest pains were far from unusual, too, Lovino knew. He had heard Roma complain about them, but he wasn't all that young anymore, and coughing wore him out, surely. It was stupid to worry, Lovino had decided, even though the fear of being left alone hit him cold and hard every time their grandfather did as much as sneeze. Only for a mere second though, of course. He was not a child anymore. He knew better than to overreact to every little thing (well, at least he'd learnt to keep quiet about his reactions).

Feliciano shrugged his shoulders, "I don't know, Lovino, it seems to me a-"

"Can we please talk about something else?" He interrupted again, thinking their current discussion useless.

The chestnut-haired boy hunched down in his seat, looking somewhat glum. His eyes traveled out through the door to the dining hall, and his lungs let out a thick breath, a sigh of defeat. Lovino watched, perplexed, as he noted a ray of remembrance and worry in Feliciano's orbs.

A tiny smile, pushing away the mood of previous conversations, crossed the younger's face. He looked a little sheepish, but happy too. Immensely gleeful, actually, even though it was somewhat hidden.

"Ah, I actually have something I wanted to talk about!" He declared, scratching the back of his head.

"Shoot." Lovino encouraged, leaning over the counter to see if any new customers had arrived. But no, not so far.

"Okay, um..." Feliciano looked pensive, crossing his legs and uncrossing them again. Whatever he was so nervous about was a mystery to Lovino, but that he was nervous, oh, that was rather easy to tell already. "You know the event last Friday?"

Lovino, leaning against the edge of the counter, nodded.

"And, er... You know Ludwig, r-right?"

He furrowed his brows, but nodded once again.

Feliciano didn't go on. He stared at the floor, wearing a look that Lovino could not put a label on. Lovino cleared his throat, "You hung out with him yesterday, if I remember correctly, hm?"

"Ah, yes, and last Saturday, too. After the restaurant was closed."

The older Vargas nodded his head yet another time, but his brother still would not get to the point.

"Feliciano," he caught his brother's attention, making the boy look up at him, "what's with Ludwig?"

"Oh, um, well... I think, er..." He mumbled, exasperating his brother with every stuttered word leaving his lips.

"Well?" He asked firmly, trying to coax an answer out of the younger Italian.

"I think I might like him as more than as a friend," he managed, slowly rising from his seat to stand opposite of Lovino, his back leaned against one of the refrigerators.

Lovino was quiet for quite some time. Because, really, what was one supposed to answer to a declaration of this astonishing fashion? Never had he imagined. Or, well, the fact that Feliciano and his German had clicked was as clear as the day to even a fool's eye, but that Lovino's little brother would be...

"Are you sure, Feli?" He said, the corners of his lips twitching upwards slightly, a mocking, incredulous manner to it all. He did not want to offend or tease his brother about all this, but Feliciano's statement had seemed to childish in a way. They had known each other for three days. Lovino couldn't believe him.

But Feliciano nodded to the doubting question, the look in his eyes telling Lovino to take him seriously despite it all. "I am!" He confirmed.

Lovino let out a sigh at this, shaking his head slightly. "Feliciano, you haven't even known this guy for a week yet. You can't seriously think that you're-"

"I _am_ serious, though!" The younger interrupted, "I know that I don't necessarily love Ludwig, of course, since it has only been a few days, like you pointed out, but..."

Lovino looked his brother up and down, awaiting the words hanging silent in the air.

"But what?"

Feliciano rolled one of his shoulders uncomfortably, his brown irises cast downwards and shielded by dark eyelashes.

"But I know I _might_... Eventually."

Lovino wrinkled his nose. As much as it was Feliciano's own choice, these sorts of things, did it have to be _him_ of all the people in their Mediterranean country? And the world? There were so many others that Lovino could actually accept. Or at least get along with. Why not that small, Japanese guy? He was nice, was he not?

"You're just confused." Mumbled words made their way out through the lips resting on a shaking head. "Just confused." Lovino repeated, unsure of who he was talking to anymore.

Feliciano's eyebrows knitted as he stood up straight, looking at his elder sibling.

"Why won't you believe me?" He asked, sounding utterly annoyed. They both felt, knew, that Lovino was treating him like their age difference was far younger than a year. It was unfair, Feliciano thought, because Lovino was not as much wiser as he thought himself to be sometimes. Feliciano was not so dumb, so naïve. Why did people so often insist on making it seem that way?

"You're young, Feli. You shouldn't act so quickly on instinct," Lovino muttered, refusing to meet his brother's hard gaze, "believe it or not, there are times when you're wrong. You think you feel something... No, you _know_ that you feel something," Lovino had taken to gesturing with his hands as he spoke, letting them rest in the air, palms upwards, and moving them frequently for emphasis to his words. Feliciano felt slightly taken aback by the sudden emotions spilling out through his brother's verbal waterfall.

Lovino kept going, as if in trans, "You can feel ridiculous about it. Refusing to register what your brain and your body is nagging on you to believe, but you know it's there. And it's real, you think." He looked sullen, suddenly, crossing his arms over his chest, "But it isn't. We're just kids, Feliciano. We might be of age, but we don't know anything yet."

"Lovino, I... I just..." He blinked, perplexed.

"Never mind, I don't know what I'm talking about."

A weeny smile was pulled across the younger's face, and he stepped back to lean against the fridge again, "You seem like you know exactly what you're talking about, actually."

Lovino peeked up at his brother, scowl right in place. "Shut up. I just have a lot on my mind, okay? Why do you even come to me about these stupid things anyway? As if I could help."

Feliciano shrugged. "You're my older brother."

The smile on Feliciano's face quickly turned into a grin as his sibling looked away with tinted cheeks and pushed him towards the door.

"Get out."

The younger of the two chuckled, wriggled out of his brother's grip and went back to sit down on the chair. Lovino settled with glaring at him, arms crossed in a disapproving manner.

He heard the small bell by the door chime, and shot a glance out over the dining hall, a small group of people catching his eye as they entered.

"Customers, Feli," he informed his brother, thanking God for giving him a chance to stop their ridiculous discussion.

Feliciano was quickly out of the kitchen, taking orders and returning to the small, wooden stool to watch Lovino cook, and bug him with conversation whilst.

* * *

Most hours of the day showed themselves rather uneventful, much to Lovino's dismay. He could've sworn he had never been so bored ever before, having been ordered to only make a few cups of coffee, at the very most. As Francis had decided to show up, Feliciano was busying himself talking to him, but Lovino did not feel like doing so himself. France had not proved itself able to offer Lovino all too much, at least not from the shallow description Francis had given him. He had no further interest in getting to know nor conversing with the man, so he stayed put inside his small kitchen.

A loud sigh escaped him and he discarded his phone, dropping it on the counter in exasperation after losing some lousy game for the fifth time that hour. So what if his car didn't make it to the goal first? He'd never really liked racing games, anyway.

"Stupid blue car cheating all the fucking time..." he muttered to himself, turning to make some coffee. As if he hadn't done that enough times today already.

To his surprise, the red cup from which he always drank his coffee was nowhere to be found. Supposedly, his thief of a sibling must had borrowed it without asking first, again. Just then, he heard the sound of somebody approaching from the dining hall.

"Feli, did you take my red cup again? I told you, if you want to paint a cup then just use one of the others! I don't see what's so special about-" Lovino turned his head and cut himself off when he was unexpectedly met with a face not belonging to his brother. "Oh..."

"Hi," Antonio said, leaning against the counter in the wall opening with a sheepish smile on his face. It looked almost as if he was apologising for even being there.

"Uh, hi..." Lovino mumbled, "Why are you here?"

Antonio wrinkled his nose, "Ouch, rude," he said, jokingly covering his chest with his hands, 'you-just-shot-me-straight-in-my-heart'-fashion teasing Lovino. "What are you doing?"

"Literally nothing." The Italian folded his arms across his chest, frowning a tad when Antonio chuckled at this unfortunate information. "What are _you_ doing?"

Antonio stood up straight, walking over to the kitchen door and entering, somewhat to Lovino's annoyance. "I came to, er... To apologise, actually." Antonio admitted, closing the door behind him with yet another sheepish demeanor to him. Lovino kind of thought him deserving to bear such an ambiance, however. He already knew what the Spaniard was being sorry for.

It still surprised him though, that the guy would actually come over just for this. Either he was still the good guy Lovino had decided to take him for, or he was simply odd.

"Apologise?" Lovino asked automatically, regretting the pointless need of confirmation right after.

Antonio nodded slowly, fidgeting slightly. Lovino thought it quite amusing to watch him fuss like that.

"For trying to, you know... Back there, eh..." His thumb pointed towards the direction of the house where their claret coloured torture chamber was located.

"For trying to smooch me?" Lovino snorted, rolling his eyes. Despite the joking fashion of his words, a faint heat was awoken in his face, causing his cheeks to match the current colour of Antonio's.

The latter released a forced laughter, "Ah, yes... That..."

"It's fine," Lovino reassured him, even though it wasn't quite, "Let's just not mention it anymore."

He threw a wary glance out of the kitchen, thinking it smart to discard discussing any events of this sort, especially considering what Feliciano might do if he heard about the incident. No more fuel was needed to his immense, burning _passion_ for teasing his older brother.

"Oh, all right," Antonio complied, sitting down on the small kitchen stool often occupied by the younger brother of Lovino's.

Lovino raised an eyebrow at him, "Are you planning on staying here for the day?"

Antonio shrugged his shoulders, "Not originally, but neither of us seem to have anything important to get to."

That was true, of course. However, just like Antonio had feared, Lovino had naturally begun feeling slightly apprehensive towards him now. Not only must wanting to downright snog somebody mean _something_, but it had also made Lovino wonder about other things. He did not enjoy Antonio confusing him like that. Or anybody, for that matter. He did not enjoy having to try and figure out what all these complicated things going on inside him meant. What went on in his head meant. And whatever was going on in the Spaniard's head, too. Not that it was any of his business.

Although; when Antonio did things like that, of course it would spark curiosity in Lovino.

"Oh, by the way, I talked to Feliciano out there and he mentioned your birthdays coming up," Antonio told.

Lovino had honestly not had a single thought about that. He hadn't forgotten both his own and his brother's birthday (which just happened to occur on the same date), but he'd pushed away the knowledge of the day approaching ever so slowly the best he could. He had never been too fond of birthdays, and he hadn't a clue why. Feliciano was always ecstatic about it, however, which wasn't much appreciated by his brother.

"I didn't know you were twins!" Antonio continued.

"We aren't. He's a year younger than me."

"Oh," he nodded understandingly, "but your birthdays are still on the same day? That's..."

"Weird, I know. Luckily I was only a year when he was born or I probably would've bitched about having my thunder taken away," Lovino laughed quietly, shaking his head as he reluctantly brought out another cup to make himself coffee. It had been a long time since he drank from anything but his red one. "Talk about an odd birthday surprise, though."

The Spaniard chuckled, raising his eyebrows. "Ah, yes."

Silence fell for a moment, broken by the younger of the Italian brothers who, with a dashing smile at Antonio - and a somewhat knowing one at Lovino, placed the first real order on the counter. Ignoring his sibling's teasing glances, Lovino took it with excitement.

"Panzanella salad," he read to himself, chewing his bottom lip before putting it down on the surface again. This would probably not take all too long, he deducted, as he was already quite skilled with salads. They weren't that difficult, after all.

"Should I get you something?" Antonio asked, watching as Lovino turned the oven on and scattered around to bring out the ingredients.

The Italian answered without losing concentration, or as much as letting his eyes cast aside towards Antonio, "Shouldn't you have learnt by now that I don't want nor need your help when I'm working?"

Antonio snickered at the menacing tone in Lovino's voice, recalling their first few, rather unsuccessful encounters.

"I meant for your birthday."

Lovino looked up at him, gripping the bowl in his hands hard, a soft expression to his face.

"Oh..." Lovino murmured, faint confusion clouding his mind, "why?"

Antonio's brows knitted, "What do you mean 'why'?"

"Why would you buy us something?"

The Spaniard shrugged, "Well, I don't know if it's different in Italy, but usually that's what people do during birthdays."

Lovino rolled his eyes, continuing with work while shaking his head. Antonio was just odd. He'd suspected it all along, but it was finally a truthful fact he could state. They didn't know each other well enough for him to expect presents from the guy, really. Antonio should not be wasting money on someone he was not going to get much from... Especially not when he really needed them for himself. Considering the amount of domestic work he was out doing, he seemingly needed the dollars staying in his own pocket.

"Don't bother," Lovino bid him.

* * *

"Do you think you could make the cake, Lovino? I wouldn't want to ruin it with my coughing-"

"We don't need a cake."

"Of course you need a cake, Lovino. It's your birthday!"

"I don't want a cake. Can't we just pretend that it's an ordinary weekday?"

"But Lovino, I want a cake!"

Lovino rolled his eyes at his brother's voiced opinion. He found this whole ordeal exasperating. Surely, had they been born on different dates, Lovino could have made his own roll by forgotten. He would much prefer that to this unnecessary, childish celebrating. Feliciano always wanted to make the most out of everyone's birthday, though. Lovino could even recall his sibling wishing Kiku happy birthday with a bouquet of flowers and some singing, despite the fact that back then, the two had only known each other for two weeks. Kiku had been somewhat perplexed at the gesture, and also immensely embarrassed before receiving the knowledge that a bouquet had to be filled with roses to be counted as a romantic declaration. Roses, of which, Feliciano's bouquet had _not_ been made of.

"Fine, I'll make the stupid cake," the sour Italian gave in, knowing that if he did not make it, either Roma or Feliciano would. Their grandfather was still sick and Lovino did not want to consume a phlegm and bacteria filled cake on his birthday. Nor on any other day, for that matter.

Feliciano might have done a slightly better job, but he was still not used to cooking that much - as it had since long been Lovino's thing and duty - and Lovino did not want to risk having his brother make a failed mess of it all.

As their birthday slowly crept up on them, Feliciano bared a tingly excitement unfortunately not shared with his brother. Lovino knew that not a lot of people would come to visit, as their amount of relatives was a limited one, but whatever the ones that did arrive might have in stock for the birthday boys frightened him.

Especially Antonio, who had refused to obey to Lovino's order not to get them anything.

Listening as Roma read out loud from a card they had received from their cousin Marcello, his mind started to wander off on its own. 'Cause damn, that boy could write a letter. He was sometimes a rather talkative guy, Lovino knew, and every now and then he even reminded him of Feliciano. They used to play with Marcello a lot as children, until the latter had to move. They never spoke that much anymore, except for these few birthday and holiday cards. Lovino was barely even sure if he could remember what age his cousin was now. Fifteen? Sixteen?

Feliciano stood up and excused himself as the phone rang, and happily greeted and thanked the happy-birthday-wishing Francis on the other end, who Feliciano had informed of this special date a long time ago. Lovino found it surprising that the Frenchman still remembered, though.

"Aren't any of your friends coming over?" Roma caught Lovino's attention. The young Italian hadn't even noticed when his grandfather had stopped reading.

A shrug of Lovino's shoulders, and he said, "I don't know. I don't exactly keep in touch with Feli's weird companions."

Roma's eyes seemed to turn almost sympathetic, confusing Lovino ever so slightly.

"What about _your_ friends?"

Lovino furrowed his brows. He'd honestly never considered himself lonely, but whoever Roma was referring to, he hadn't a clue. Lovino did not spend much time socialising, or getting to know new people, but even so... The one's he _did_ know, he had no real memory of introducing to Roma. Not as friends, at least.

"My friends?"

His grandfather nodded, an indistinct smile pulled across his face. "Feliciano mentioned you started to hang out with some Spanish people, I think... And also that, ah, Francis, was it? He who worked in the kitchen the other day."

Lovino found himself surprised by Roma's sudden way of talking so lightly about Lovino's unacceptable actions, but discarded the thoughts. "Some Spanish people?" He repeated, an amused tone clouding his voice, "He said that?"

Roma shrugged, "Perhaps not those words exactly..."

"It's _one_ Spanish guy." He said quietly, before knitting his brows and continuing with a firm tone, "And I'm not 'hanging out' with him. He just keeps bothering me, is all."

Roma nodded understanding, his eyes darting over to the younger of his grandchildren, still conversing happily through the phone.

"And I don't even like Francis."

Roma laughed ebulliently, standing up and ruffling Lovino's rosewood tinted hair. "You won't make many friends with that attitude."

Lovino swatted his hand away, the lightly disgruntled expression on his face fading away as the small bell by the door rang, Antonio's very self being revealed as the door swung open.

"Speak of the devil." Lovino mumbled, watching as Feliciano waved at their visitor without leaving the phone. Antonio waved back, one arm reaching behind his back. Lovino sighed, shaking his head as he saw the man struggling to close the door without flashing what could already be guessed as a present hidden behind his body.

"Is that him?" Roma whispered, nearly as if they were discussing opinions of the Spaniard in question in secrecy.

"Yeah," Lovino stood, sliding past his grandfather and over to Antonio, whose soft smile grew even larger when greeted by his younger friend.

Lovino's eyes shifted around, feeling awkward with the knowledge of having his family most probably eyeing them from across the room. He tried to ignore it though, thanking Antonio when being told happy birthday, and reluctantly accepting the stiff hug offered with one arm.

"I know you said not to get you anything-"

"I strictly protested against the suggestion."

"-and that I shouldn't even show up-"

"I meant what I said about that threat of burying you alive, you know."

"-but I took a bold risk and ignored that-"

"Obviously."

"-and I got you this!"

Antonio finally parted his bent arm from the small of his back, holding up a small package in front of Lovino. Nicely wrapped in royal blue paper, silver band hugging it tightly. Lovino shook his head again as Antonio excused himself for not getting a card, torn between thinking him mad and being guilty for knowing that he himself reasonably would have refrained from buying Antonio anything. He wondered briefly when the guy's birthday was, anyway.

Antonio made his way past Lovino, holding up a similar package which got Feliciano beaming instantly at the sight.

Lovino fumbled, hurriedly trying to rip the paper off - the white ribbon tied around it making the process a tad more difficult for him. With some muttered cuss words and furrowed brows he eventually managed to have the paper dropping to the wooden floor, a small, flat box delicately left in his pale hands.

His slender fingers found an edge to tear on, his eagerness nearly having the present on the ground together with its torn wrappings, had he not caught it in time. Lovino ripped the carton material apart, a pocket book appearing from inside it.

His face fell, quickly turning into a frown at the sound of Antonio back by his side, snickering at Lovino's reaction.

"How To Dance - a book for beginners," Lovino read out loud from the cover, his eyes fixed on the Spaniard wearing a mocking look.

"I don't know much about your hobbies, unfortunately, but I think Feliciano mentioned once that you read a lot," Antonio leaned in a bit closer, malicious smile plastered upon his face, "and considering last Friday, this might just be the perfect book for you, Lovino."

"Thank you,_ Antonio,_" he said coldly, "what would you like for _your_ birthday? Being run over by a car, or eaten by alligators?"

"Can I keep the car?" The Spaniard smirked, a laughter escaping him as Lovino's fist hit his upper arm with mighty strength.

* * *

_AN: Did anybody manage to figure out that their cousin Marcello is actually Seborga? His human name isn't canon, but apparently 'Marcello' is the most used one among fans. I ended up sticking with it as well._

_Originally I wanted to make him their younger brother, but I don't know much about him, and I do not feel that I know the character well enough to write him just yet._

_Even so, I love the guy. He should appear more in the comic (and he has yet to make his first appearance in the anime, what's up with that?)_


	8. Chapter 8

"I've got an extra gift for you."

Antonio's light smile was kind and playful, and Lovino could only predict another mocking present with amiable intentions, indistinctly hidden. He narrowed his eyes, trying to coax the truth out of the Spaniard with a single expression. Antonio looked rather unaffected, much to Lovino's dismay.

"And what's that?" The Italian asked, his arms crossed over his chest.

They were outside, on the backside of the restaurant, basking in the small rays of sunlight forcing their way into the narrow street between rows of houses. The white walls were filled with green plants, hanging from their small baskets to cover as much of the pale, plain stone surfaces as possible.

It was unusually hot and dry for a month like this, early in on the year and just in the merging of summer and winter.

"You'll probably say no at first, but just consider it before answering, okay?"

"I have a bad feeling about this." Lovino admitted incredulously to Antonio's slight secrecy. The teasing in concrete form of a book given to Lovino's possession was quite enough, honestly. He had distinctly voiced his opinion on Antonio getting him anything at all. Perchance giving gifts like this was a Spanish thing. Culture difference, and all that jazz.

Antonio chuckled, bringing his hand up to shield his squinting eyes from the piercing sunlight.

"I want you to go dancing with me again," he said simply. The comfortable tone in his voice nearly made Lovino say yes automatically, before his brain managed to process the actual words presented to him.

"Dancing?" He repeated, "Again?"

Antonio did but nod at the skeptical tone seeking confirmation from him.

"Not right now," he explained, "but next week. There'll be a-"

"I don't think so," Lovino interrupted, amusement filling his voice. Had it seemed as if he was enjoying the last time excessively much? Perhaps this guy was just enjoying torturing Lovino. Spanish sadist.

"Just start practicing. Now that you have that book it shouldn't be too hard, right?" His smile grew, much unlike Lovino's - which had, truth be told, barely been there in the first place. "To be honest though, Lovino, you weren't that bad to start with."

"Tch, you're a lousy liar, you know that?"

"I suppose it's just in your blood, dancing," Antonio shrugged a shoulder, backing away further from the restaurant. Lovino thought him a cunning coward. Leaving before Lovino had the time to argue properly.

The latter rolled his eyes, watching as Antonio waved him goodbye as each footstep brought him further away. He now found it somewhat difficult to tell if the Spaniard had been serious or not, giving him that book.

Either way, he seemed oddly keen on having Lovino dancing again.

* * *

Lovino found himself unable to stop his continuous glances to the side, driving the car with a nervous twist in his stomach. He had been asked to pick some boxes up - which contents he knew close to nothing about - by Roma. His interest of whatever it actually was he was bringing back home was rather weak. This was far from the first time he'd been given orders to tag along and pick up packages outside the city, after all. It had surprised him somewhat when Roma did not intend to drive himself, however. According to the elder man's words, he simply did not have the time. Lovino believed that there were other reasons though. Reasons like Roma's health, for example, which was not getting better.

Reaching the outskirts of town took him about an hour. Sixty minutes of nearly drowning in all his thoughts, whirling around in his head and bothering him while he tried to stay on the road. As if he wasn't having enough trouble with that already. As his driving skills weren't necessarily to be labeled bad, no one had ever willingly sat themselves in the passenger's seat when he was behind of the steering wheel. That is, except for his brother, who really wasn't much better himself. However; he was of course not allowed to drive a lot. Roma still thought him too young.

Picking the packages up went smooth and easy, Lovino working from experience. He could not help but to feel oh so mature and grown up when signing forms and watching stoically as buff blokes in sweaty clothes carried the objects to his car, sending odd looks his direction, which of course took some of his pride away. Not that he'd show it. He did his best to ignore their wondering stares. Had they never seen a young person come here before?

Lovino decided to act smart and gush music out of the radio on his way home. Blasting songs that weren't really that good, but at the very least drowned out his active mind.

No thinking about traveling. No thinking about Roma. No thinking about whether he should actually learn how to dance or not. No thinking about Antonio. And ignoring the questioning of why he even brought the God damn book with him.

First thing reaching Lovino's ears as he stepped inside his home and workplace was Feliciano's whining and nagging on their grandfather. He was not yet sure what their discussion was about, but it made him roll his eyes nonetheless.

"Feliciano, would you help me carry those boxes?" He made himself heard as he stepped further inside. Knitting his brows as his request was ignored, however, Lovino crossed his arms in a sour manner.

"I am telling you, I'm fine. There is no need to make such a fuss about it," Roma assured his younger grandson, whose frown looked impeccably out of place on his face.

"I still don't believe you," he muttered obstinately. Both of them had yet to cast a glance at Lovino's direction, which the latter intended to change right this instant.

Lovino walked up to them, feeling sure enough about what their conversing topic was, but asking anyway.

"What the hell are you two kindergartners fighting about, huh?" He asked frivolously, earning gloomy stares from both of them.

Silence fell for a moment, like a contest of who could keep their mask on longest. Losing it, Feliciano mumbled an answer to his brother's wondering.

"Grandpa won't go to see a doctor, even though I'm sure it isn't just a cold anymore. His coughing is getting worse." The younger crossed his arms over his chest, glaring at his grandfather.

"Feliciano," Roma started, his voice quieter and calmer than before, "there really is no need to-"

"And his chest pains, too!" The younger of the brothers continued on, ignoring his grandfather's pleas to silence him. Feliciano could not believe Roma's constant denial and promises that he would be all right. That he was fine, and that it was nothing to worry about. Sure, Feliciano knew that he had jumped to conclusions at the beginning, but now it was becoming more distinct than ever that perhaps those conclusions might have been right. Roma kept arguing against it, and from the look on Lovino's face, Feliciano would guess that his older brother was still skeptical. Or at least, pretending to be so. Ignoring problems did not make them go away, however. They all knew that.

Despite the incredulous fashion of Lovino's expression, he turned to his grandfather, speaking quietly with a judging tone. "Is that true?" He asked, "Are you getting worse?"

Roma's face was hued sheepish. His fist quickly covered his mouth as a cough shook his body with mighty strength, almost as if to assure Feliciano's words to be true. Something ached inside Lovino. Perchance that it still was not too dangerous. Either way, getting Roma to the doctor might have been a good choice.

"Maybe you have something stuck in your lungs or something... Or your, I don't know... Your throat?" Lovino suggested. His voice was hopeful, trying to convince himself more than anything. His assumptions were rather reasonable, however.

Roma nodded quickly, waving his hand as his coughing died out. "Yes, yes! That's-" He uttered, suddenly broken off by another rumbling coughing fit.

Lovino shook his head with a sigh, swatting his hand against Feliciano's arm.

"Come on, help me with the boxes."

Feliciano's eyes were fixed on Roma for a moment, before he reluctantly followed his older sibling.

* * *

"One, two, three, four..."

Lovino had noticed that dancing without a partner was a lot more difficult than he had imagined.

"One, two, three, four..."

And dancing without music, also a bigger challenge. Especially for somebody who had not already mastered the steps.

"One, two, three, four..."

And now that he was actually concentrating, actually thinking about his movements and over analyzing them, it was harder. It almost seemed as if his skills were only becoming worse with every swear word and retry he did.

"For fuck's sake," he muttered, his brows furrowed as he managed to step _himself_ on the feet. Things had been flowing by themselves when he danced with Antonio. Supposedly, he had not been pondering every movement he did, unlike now.

And honestly, the book was a rather lousy one. He'd come to terms with the fact that learning how to dance through reading was a hopeless tactic. He should have had a teacher. But there was no way he was paying somebody to teach him something he'd have to use _one_ night.

Unless Antonio - or somebody else - wanted him to do this another time. But, Lovino decided, if that was the case, he'd learn to downright refuse that offer.

"Hey, Lovino," Feliciano's voice caught his attention, the young Italian peeking his head in by the door. An amused face was plastered upon him as soon as he saw what his brother was trying to do.

Lovino quickly hid the book behind his back, despite his absolute knowledge that it had already been spotted by his younger brother.

"What?" He asked, already having exasperation clouding his tone.

"Are you dancing?"

Ready to deny, the elder Vargas opened his mouth, but shut it again, knowing it useless. His eyes cast aside, he nodded with a cross ambiance to him.

"Oh! How's it going?" Feliciano sounded thrilled, confusing Lovino just the slightest.

"It's, uh," he shrugged, tossing the book on his bed, "I'm useless, to sum it up."

Feliciano walked further into the room, taking the pocket-book in his slender fingers, examining it.

"Learning from a book can't be very easy," he mumbled.

"Just what I thought." Lovino sat down on the bed, "But I had to try."

Feliciano's amiable eyes narrowed as he smiled, his hand curling around Lovino's wrist to pull him up on the floor again.

"Here, I'll teach you."

"Since when do you know how to dance?"

Feliciano snorted, "Since always. Foxtrot is easy!" He stated, earning a roll of Lovino's eyes. Because clearly, it was not that easy. Not for everybody, at least. He was curious as to who had taught his younger sibling to dance, really, since it seemed rather unlikely for him to have taught himself. Perhaps Roma, even though Lovino was not sure if the man could dance.

Not that if he would be surprised if he got told so, though. That man seemed to have experienced everything. Somewhere along the way he'd ought to have learnt the act of dancing.

And if it was him, he sure had taught his grandson well. The brothers' positions were rather incorrect, due to them both wanting to lead, but Lovino's shuffling of feet got immensely better after a few turns on their hardwood floor. Feliciano was positive and encouraging as a teacher, which Lovino had somewhat expected, after all.

"So how's it... How is it going with Ludwig?" Lovino asked after a minute or two complete with silence. Feliciano had stopped explaining the details, tactics, or the mistakes that Lovino made. They needed to be practical too, of course. Repeating the same pattern of steps and swirls over and over again was getting rather boring, Lovino found. He might as well use the time to waste words.

Feliciano's eyes caught with Lovino's for a second, before casting downwards again. Whether from embarrassment or want to watch their feet, the older of the two knew not.

"Oh, it's... Good," Feliciano shrugged a shoulder, swaying Lovino in a circle.

The latter smirked, sensing how his sibling was holding back verbal descriptions he'd really like to spill out in glee and excitement. Lovino had known him long enough to tell. He was wondering about Feliciano's reason for keeping his silence, however. Perhaps because his knowledge of the tension between Lovino and Ludwig.

"Just good?" Lovino questioned, flinching as he nearly stepped on his brother's foot... Again.

"Why are you wondering?" The corner's of Feliciano's lips twisted upwards, revealing that he really was holding back his words.

"I gotta protect you from idiots," Feliciano chuckled at Lovino's explanation, "and if it's anything less than good, I might just have to kick some German ass."

The younger of the two shook his head, his smile wide and content. "Ludwig is not an idiot, Lovino. I think you know that." His eyes darted up to his brother's face again, eyebrows raised in an incredulous fashion.

"Tch, maybe so," Lovino admitted, "I still don't like him though."

Feliciano nodded, their synced movements slowing down. "I know. It's a shame, he's very nice."

"Obviously you'd think so."

"No, really! He's very caring, and he-"

"All right, all right, I don't need to hear your praising of the guy," Lovino stopped, taking a step back with his hands raised in defense. Of course, even if he did not feel comfortable with Feliciano's friend, nor trusted him, he had seemed to appreciate Lovino's younger brother enough not to treat him execrably. However accusatory Lovino might feel or act towards this man, he'd bite his tongue about it. Or try to, at least.

Feliciano chewed his bottom lip slightly, mind seemingly clouded by heavy thoughts.

"And how is it going with you and Antonio?" He spoke suddenly, earning a surprised look of Lovino's face. The latter opened his mouth to answer, but was quickly interrupted.

"A-and I'm not taunting you or anything, Lovino!" Feliciano assured him quickly, "So please don't break anything! I was just... Genuinely curious."

Lovino's mouth curled, waves of guilt infecting his conscience. He was perplexed about why Feliciano would ask this though. Had Lovino not made his point about whatever relationship he had with the Spaniard?

"Why are you wondering that?" His eyebrows pulled together, as he sat down on the chair by the white desk most often occupied by his brother's very self and characteristic drawings.

Feliciano shrugged, his mouth twisted in a weeny smile, "You asked me first, didn't you?"

A roll of Lovino's eyes, and exasperation sinking in. "Yeah, but you actually have something going on with that douche; I don't with Antonio."

The younger Vargas was quiet for a while, rocking back and forth on his heels slightly, hands locked behind his back and smile growing wider.

"Are you sure you don't have a crush on him?" Feliciano's voice was teasing, but Lovino thought he deducted honesty in his brother's question, still. The fact that he kept insisting on believing this was wearing Lovino out.

"One hundred percent sure, Feliciano, now stop bugging me about it, all right?"

"You're blushing, though."

"Because your stupid assumptions embarrass me, fucktard!" Lovino's cross eyes glared at Feliciano, his arms folded over his chest defensively.

Feliciano snickered, turning towards the bed to pick the pocket-book up.

"I think we're done," he said, "you learn fast, you know!"

"Fuck you." Lovino growled, resentful by his brother's way of turning his mood negative, before completely changing the subject.

The younger turned his head around at the words, smirking somewhat at his disputed brother, who he found way too easy to upset, at times. He couldn't deny the malicious amusement he found in it, however.

"Oh, don't be mad, Lovino," he bid, walking towards the door with a still malevolently smiling face.

"You should get it into your head already that I don't want anything to do with him," Lovino muttered, dark orbs pointed anywhere else but his brother, "Not... Like that."

"That's too bad then, Lovino," Feliciano shrugged his shoulders, his voice vaguely fading as he exited the room, "because he seems to have a thing for you, at least."

"What?" Lovino voiced skeptically at Feliciano's alleged words. He was taking it too far now, either really going all out just to set that twisting ache right back in place in Lovino's gut; or really believing something so incredibly intolerable. "Wait, what?!" He called out again, before sinking in his seat as the air left his lungs, knowing he was being ignored.

* * *

Lovino's hands shook a little as he finished the last dish that day before closing time. He called for Feliciano, eyes fixed on the clock and its suddenly loud ticking, like a vigorous drumming against his skull. Only a few more minutes before they would close and clean up, and after that, Lovino would be fretting over clothes and such for however long time remained before Antonio came over to pick him up.

He'd mastered the dancing quite well, if he were to judge himself. With some help from Feliciano - and eventually Roma, who did prove to be just as talented at it - Lovino quickly had the steps flowing as if on own accord, his mind able to wander elsewhere without stepping on his partner's feet, or tripping on himself and falling over.

But despite it all, Lovino was still nervous. Even though he was quite sure no one would be watching and judging his skills when he was out dancing tonight, it felt so very different from the practicing done in his and Feliciano's room. Maybe reason for his uncertainty was because he wouldn't be dancing with trusted members of his own family, or something of the like. Lovino had become accustomed to Antonio's presence, however, so the man himself was not causing the tickling ache twisting his nerves, Lovino swore.

He lay flat down on his bed, watching the ceiling as if it had anything of his interest to offer. The displayed canvas of pale, plane and empty surface above him was merely making him tired, however. God forbid he'd fall asleep before Antonio got there.

When his eyelids were at last too heavy to keep open, Lovino stood from the bed with a sigh, feeling like a silly teenager as he descended to the empty dining hall, seating himself by one of the tables to wait there instead. His face wore a frown, and his foot tapped against the floorboards in an unsteady pace. He could recall Roma asking him earlier if he was "nervous about his first date", but Lovino had but corrected him rather harshly at that formulation. He refused to think of it as a date. It was a birthday gift, which he perhaps should have mentioned to Roma earlier before the man developed assumptions about his grandson's relationships and sexual orientation.

Not even Lovino had considered those two too much, in all his honesty.

And naturally he was about to, just as the thoughts-obstructing sound of knocking was heard from the front door. The Italian stood and walked over to it, meeting with the grinning Antonio on the other side, very much expected.

"Hi! Are you ready?" He let his arm lift and motion towards the scenery outside, and Lovino nodded, hurrying out before neither his grandfather nor brother would have time to shoot any comments what so ever their way. Or politely bid them goodbye.

Closing the door behind them, Lovino's eyes searched his environment for any vehicle possibly in possession of Antonio, but found none. Perplexed, his eyebrows furrowed, and he pondered if by any chance their destination was closer than he'd expected.

"We're walking?" He voiced his wondering.

"Yeah, if that's fine with you," Antonio started heading towards wherever they were actually going. Lovino had not received too much information. "It's not that far though, I promise."

"It's fine," Lovino assured, shoving his hands into his pockets as he stepped beside Antonio, regretting that he had not checked the time before departing from his home, as he was now rather surprised that the moon was already creeping up on the dark blue sky. He looked for stars, but found none.

"Where are we going?" The Italian asked, feeling uneasy at his lack of awareness when it came to the night's events. "Is it a nightclub or something?"

Antonio made a grimace, his shoulders raised and his head tipping from side to side as if he was considering it to be labeled 'nightclub'.

"I suppose, in a way," he said, "but it's a bit different. It's, ah, how do you say..."

Lovino watched him struggling for words, the man's hands gesturing in the air as he spoke.

Antonio continued, "It has very unique characteristics." He laughed slightly, sheepish at his limited vocabulary in Lovino's language.

It was good enough for the latter, however, and he found himself curious about the place in question. He had never visited a club or venue before, so it would be quite interesting to see. He was somewhat incredulous towards any statements that there would me a lot of nightclubs in the area, however, as he'd always found it a very cultural and antique part of the city. So the said fact that this one would have "unique characteristics" was highly plausible, Lovino thought. Or else they'd have to walk quite some distance. But who knew, perhaps Antonio was used to long walks. If that was it, then Lovino would definitely scold him for the exhaustion it would require.

* * *

_AN: This chapter was only 3,752 words, which is a bit little for me. Usually I can reach to around 4,000 or 5,000. Supposedly (or should I say hopefully) this won't upset you all too much. I hope you enjoyed! This is when the plot turns more eventful and less boring, I assure you. _


	9. Chapter 9

A big platform in wood, connected to a small house painted falu red was appearing in front of them the further they got. Lovino could hear loud music and laughing and chatting coming from ahead, and he had to laugh internally at Antonio's way of describing this as a unique nightclub. A different one. Because Lovino recognised this as not being a nightclub at all.

"Antonio," he chuckled, "this is a dance pavilion."

"Oh, I didn't know the word for it," Antonio sheepishly rubbed his arm, eyes cast upon the building looming in front of them. It was already quite dark out, but the lights, and the liveliness of the people, made the scenery lucid.

As they came nearer, a seemingly drunk man greeted them loudly. His arms flung out in the air, beer bottle raised with one of them - and spilling on the people around him, he called out.

"Hello, friends! Welcome!" He slurred, his eyes hued pink and the hem of his shirt tied through the collar to reveal his abdomen. However as Lovino leaned in to whisper and ask Antonio if he knew this person, the latter only shook his head and waved back, greeting this guy as if they were old pals. Perhaps from now on, they would be. They were both equally friendly, it seemed.

After only a few minutes, Lovino and Antonio were seated on the railing wrapping the pavilion, each a drink in hand, but far from ravishing it like their new-found buddy did.

"You know," Lovino began, feeling Antonio's eyes settling on him, "I actually practiced my dancing for this."

Antonio's face was beaming, his rows of pearly whites flashed. "Really? So the book helped?"

Lovino snorted, "No, stupid," he said, "the book was fucking useless. The lessons I got from Feli were pretty helpful, though."

The Spaniard nodded, looking nearly honoured, despite the fact that his tactics had proved of no value when it came to developing Lovino's skills. The fact that the latter had had to turn to somebody else for help did not exactly put Antonio in the limelight.

"So would you care to show me your achievements?" Antonio placed his can on the railing, his now free hand offered for Lovino to take and follow further out on the dance floor. With a proud smile, he did so.

Lovino realised however, as he was to fall into position, ready for dancing, that he still only knew Foxtrot. This song was fast, and he knew not how to move to it. Not without looking like a complete idiot, at least.

Antonio must have spotted the hesitation and realisation flashing by in Lovino's orbs, as he stopped entirely, giving him a concerned look with knitted eyebrows.

"Lovino?" He said quietly, tilting his head in attempt of catching a glance from the Italian, whose eyes were travelling across the pavilion, his hand rubbing his neck in a sheepish fashion.

"I can't do this," he said, earning an incredulous look from Antonio. Lovino understood what he was thinking. If Lovino had practiced enough to sound so proud about his success, of course he could do this. He'd do it flawlessly, no doubt. Which was of course true, had it been the right kind of notes buzzing through the air. "I only learnt how to dance Foxtrot."

Antonio stared, dumbfounded for a few seconds, before he straightened up and nodded. "Oh..." He breathed, his lips drawn into a tiny smile. "Well, all right, we'll have to wait until they play a slow song then, huh?"

Lovino nodded, folding his arms across his chest.

"Unless you want to try this, just... Improvising?"

He froze for a second. No, he did not think he wanted to try that. Sure, he'd seen people dancing like the many around him right now, and it did not look all too difficult, but something told him not to. He'd embarrass himself for sure.

He shook his head quickly, and Antonio did but plaster an amused expression upon his face at this. His fingers encircled Lovino's wrist delicately, asking him yet again to reconsider his answer. They might have fun trying, but at Lovino's expense, nonetheless.

"No, I just... We'll wait," he put his hands up in defense, and started walking back to his waiting drink, which he suspected had been slurped from by their new friend, who had yet to introduce himself and give a name.

Antonio reluctantly followed suit, looking somewhat glum, his hopes of getting to dance with Lovino being trampled on and postponed. Apparently. But Lovino could not see why the man seemed to enjoy dancing so much.

Perhaps it was as he had suggested himself, that it was in the blood.

"Chickened out?" The man slurred, leaning sloppily against the railing. He looked excessively wasted, to say the least. Not only was his speech and posture sort of giving him away, but his eyes were half-lidded and bloodshot, his hair a ragged mess, and he only had one arm inside his jacket. A funny sight to the eye, Lovino thought, though maybe not a very pleasant one.

"No, we're just waiting for another song." Lovino explained firmly. As much as this guy was entertaining in his own way, he was getting on the Italian's nerves.

"You don't like this?" The man asked, dragging out his vowels and slurring the s.

Lovino picked his can up, which was, as predicted, a lot lighter in weight. With a huff, he placed it on the wooden railing again, further away from himself. "I guess you could say that."

The man smacked a hand against his chest, mouth hanging open. He looked offended, which confused Lovino to an infinite extent.

"I _love_ this song!" He told, discarding his beer for the first time that night. Impressing, Lovino declared internally.

"Oh?"

"Yes!" He shouted, his arms flung out in the air. The man took a few steps closer to Antonio, who was unaffectedly sipping his beverage, from which nothing had been stolen, it seemed. "In fact, I'm going to dance! With my _buddy_!"

He managed to knock the liquid-filled can out of Antonio's hands as he locked their arms together and dragged him away out on the dance floor. Lovino could not hold back the snort and hysterical laughter escaping him at the surprised look coating the Spaniard's face, which stayed there even as he gave in and danced with the man, who looked as if he was having the time of his life. It would not surprise Lovino much if the man claimed it to be just so, too.

He moved rather haphazardly before hunching down, too out of breath to go on. Antonio laughed and patted him on the back, a gesture that showed not too helpful with the man's breathing, as he broke into a coughing fit instead. With an awkward look on his face, Antonio returned to Lovino's side as the man waved at him to leave.

"He's not dying, is he?" Lovino asked as the Spaniard approached him. Antonio shot a glance over his shoulder worriedly.

"I hope not," he said, forcing a small chuckle, "oh, he's standing up now!" Antonio pointed at the man, now heading over to the offered drinks, ready to sweep his coughing down with another beer.

Lovino laughed at him and shook his head. How much could one actually drink before passing out completely, really?

* * *

Thirty minutes later, Antonio and Lovino were still by the railing - however now sitting upon it, for a change - waiting for an opportunity to dance. Lovino hadn't gone through the trouble for nothing.

Eventually Antonio deducted that it seemed as if a slow song was not going to be played unless they straight up asked for one. So he planned to do so.

Hopping down from his seat on the wooden boards, he told the questioning Lovino to wait a moment and hurried over to a member of the staff (as he could not seem to find a disc jockey behind the speakers).

Lovino watched, perplexed, as Antonio spoke to this tall, slender male with a black staff shirt. He nodded, causing a wide smile to take form on Antonio's face, before the latter scattered back to the waiting Italian.

"Come on!" He encouraged, holding a hand out for Lovino, who reluctantly ignored it, jumping down without help.

"What did you do?" He asked, discarding the nearly empty can he'd been unconsciously warming with his hands.

Antonio's eyes were enigmatic as he indicated for Lovino to follow him inside the crowd of swaying people, which the latter did, despite his confusion.

The music slowed down, and he understood. He had to admit that it was rather smart of Antonio, whatever he'd done, or else they would have had to wait for another several hours, surely. Lovino had been somewhat hoping that they would not have to do this, however. He was still nervous for whatever reasons he might have. Even though he did not want to waste the art he had mastered so well.

"Time to show me what you've got," Antonio winked, and Lovino forced a laughter and a shake of his head, eyes casting downwards to their feet. His face was hot. But then again, so was the air and the lights.

Somehow managing to have them both half-leading, Lovino had his hands arranged upon Antonio's body, whose smile was a never-ending one. The music seemed rather quiet compared to the pounding echoes of his heart, speeding up against his will. He was so, so, unnecessarily nervous.

But he felt confident, nevertheless. They started moving, much more delicately and properly so than the many pairings around them. Some were just hugging and moving from side to side, looking almost asleep on each others' shoulders. Some seemed not to have realised that the song was much slower. Some were dancing alone in interesting ways.

But Lovino had been taught the formal way, so this was what he knew. Not that Antonio seemed to mind very much, when it all came down to it. Lovino did not care what the many folks around them thought of his skills, really. Did he care what Antonio thought? Well, honestly, inevitably, he did. Antonio was the reason he had learnt these stupid moves, anyway.

They flowed easily together. They were in sync and connected, and it was easy. Lovino didn't even need to stare at their feet the way he did. But the last time he'd done anything else, everything had overwhelmed him and he had stopped all of a sudden. That had surely worried the Spaniard at some level, even though there weren't much questioning about it from his side.

"Very good, Lovino," Antonio said quietly, leaning in to speak close to Lovino's ear. His breath tickled against the latter's skin, goosebumps rising from it.

"I know," Lovino smiled, causing his partner to chuckle softly.

"You seem a lot more confident."

"I... I know." Lovino repeated, ironically a bit more uncertain.

"Mm," Antonio nodded, "didn't your brother teach you to look at the one you're dancing with, though?"

Lovino's stomach twisted. "I just don't want to step on your toes or anything."

"That's considerate of you."

"Yeah..." Lovino chuckled again, "I know."

"I think you'll do fine though," Antonio coaxed, "you have to trust yourself."

Lovino huffed, tilting his head up, but avoiding Antonio's eyes. He watched their surroundings.

A group of old men were seated by a bench, their roaring laughter causing their wide bodies to bob up and down, liquid spilling from their bottles and cans; three younger girls were standing some distance away, whispering and giggling and casting annoyed glances at the men every now and then; an old couple was dancing slowly, and had been doing so since Lovino and Antonio arrived, it seemed. They both looked genuinely content, tiny smiles crossing their wrinkled faces.

To Lovino's right there were more people dancing. A young couple with freckles and acne; two girls with short hair and suspenders, switching between ravishing each others' lips and the beverages in their hands; they were all different individuals. All unique. It was rather fascinating, now that Lovino thought about it.

And in front of him, a man whose one hand was pressed against Lovino's, the other to his waist; legs brushing against Lovino's own now and then; eyes already locked on the Italian's face as he met with them, green and vibrant as always. Did Antonio really take looking at his dance partner so seriously? Lovino thought him peculiar. All the time. He was one of a kind, and it interested Lovino, he realised.

"There you go."

Lovino barely heard the words, but he saw Antonio's lips move. He saw the words formed despite the smile dragged along the soft, pink lining of his mouth.

Which, before unconsidered by Lovino, were now alluring. Perchance that the alcohol was getting to his head. He still was not too used to it, after all.

Oh well, he thought, let the drink do its job. To set him in situations with inevitably bad outcomes. Push him towards actions with upcoming regrets. Who cared, anyway.

Lovino took a long breath, the palm he had flat against Antonio's side now sliding up over his back. His eyes were still steadily in contest with Antonio's, which were now looking somewhat questioning, or perplexed, as Lovino's fingers curled and pulled at the fabric of the Spaniard's clothes.

He breathed out, hands shaking and chest drumming as his forehead fell against his partner's shoulder. His face tipped and he pecked the collarbone hiding underneath Antonio's garments.

The latter's eyes were now closed, and his head slowly leaned to the side, the sides of their heads resting against each other. Lovino's auburn locks tickled Antonio's ear.

Lovino's lips touched the neckline of Antonio's shirt, and his skin, tan and burning hot. Lovino wasn't yet sure what he was doing, neither was he stopping to ponder it. The only response he was receiving from the Spaniard was tighter grips and slower swaying, which didn't seem negative to Lovino. More so encouraging. Anticipating.

His face parted from Antonio's body, darkly chartreuse-green eyes looking at him from underneath black, shielding eyelashes. Lovino swallowed heavily. He decided not to think, because it would ruin everything. It would hinder his intentions, which were stupid all the way through, but none of his cares were of that.

Their cheeks were meeting. Their skin was burning. Lovino's eyes were closed as he furrowed his brows. Antonio was so warm.

He leaned away from him, carefully blowing on his cheek. Antonio was confused by his actions, but uttered nothing of it. He would refrain from verbally questioning Lovino's behaviour. Even as he released Antonio's hand, holding his waist instead. Even as he uncharacteristically baffled Antonio by kissing his cheek. Was he this weak to the effects of alcohol? Antonio would have thought he drank wine all the time. Perhaps he was but used to that and nothing else, if that was the case.

Antonio froze, but still didn't question Lovino as his lips weren't on Antonio's fiery hot cheek anymore, but momentarily lost from the Spaniard's face until pressed against his own lips; softly, warily. Lovino was slightly scared.

Before parting, Antonio caught him again. He kissed him deeper. He kissed him thoroughly. He _kissed_ him, which they both found hard to believe when it all came down to it.

Antonio started swaying them in a steadier pace, tingling sparks inside him that Lovino was causing entirely.

He'd been caught off guard, but he'd sensed, furtively hoped, that this was to happen sometime.

* * *

Lovino had found it rather awkward being walked home by Antonio that night. None of them had said anything, being too deep in thought or embarrassment. Lovino had been troubled, trying to fathom what he had done. That Antonio had let him. Whatever they were to each other now would keep him awake the entire night, he swore.

By his doorstep, Antonio had smiled at him, but not looked him in the eye. He'd bid him goodnight, and Lovino'd be damned if that hadn't been hesitation luring in Antonio's eyes before he left. He had not known how to part from him properly.

Hug, kiss, handshake? Well, Lovino wasn't sure himself. But despite the angry knot in his gut telling him to regret what he had done, he felt giddy and excited.

What worried him was the endless wondering of what Antonio had thought. Had he not tried to kiss Lovino before? Should he not have acted ecstatic to have it happening at last? He was puzzling. But even if he felt contrite, Lovino wouldn't let him deny the impeccable truth of him having enjoyed kissing the Italian. He hadn't let Lovino part from him. He had kissed back, toe-curling fashion.

And now, when Feliciano had dared to taunt Lovino about his relationship with Antonio again, Lovino couldn't be angry with his brother. Not now when there was actually something in between them. Or at least, so it seemed. Maybe the Spaniard had realised how wrong he'd been.

Lovino feared that with all his might: Antonio realising that he was never really interested in Lovino. That he was never really interested in men. Anything of the like, it made Lovino bitter. And he had to ponder as well whatever had changed inside his own head, or rather, _when_ it had. Lovino had never been drawn to a man before. Not what so ever, not the way he had been allured towards Antonio. And Lovino - despite alarming voices inside him telling him how bad the idea was - wanted to ask his brother for help.

He didn't think Feliciano all too experienced or wise in the matter, but they were still brothers after all. He might want to keep what happened that night to himself, but Feliciano would find out eventually. If anything, from Antonio, as the two seemed to make quite the friendly pairing.

"Feliciano, I need to ask you something," Lovino spoke, lowering the book he held in his hands, which he honestly hadn't been reading much for the past five minutes. Not as much as he'd been mentally preparing himself for what he was to discuss with his younger sibling. He hoped Feliciano would take the subject seriously.

The latter looked up from his small sketch pad, and Lovino wondered why he'd bothered to turn the TV on if none of them were to watch it anyway.

They were seated in Roma's bedroom, in the small, red couch that faced their little television, seldom used. Lovino's eyes were glued to the page he'd been staring at but not registering for the last few minutes, as he closed the book entirely and put it on the couch by his pulled up legs.

"You and Ludwig," he started, "when you, uh... When you realised that you... Liked him," Lovino paused, re-positioning himself in the couch, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. "Did you ever consider, er... I mean, do you consider yourself... You know," he motioned with his hands, hoping Feliciano would catch the hint.

But no such luck. His brother looked clueless about what Lovino was trying to formulate.

The older of the two let out a sigh, "Your sexuality, I mean..."

An amused smile pulled at Feliciano's lips, and his eyebrows furrowed. "Are you wondering if I'm gay?" He inquired bluntly. Lovino was somewhat shocked by the question, but figured it partly accurate.

He shrugged a shoulder, keeping his eyes which would much rather avoid his brother's, instead locked with those hazel ones opposite him. He needn't show any more signs of nervousness by letting his eyes dart around every object of the room.

"Yeah, sure." He said, as if it had been a suggestion.

Feliciano looked content. His eyes traveled downwards as he considered his answer, before he shrugged as well.

"Maybe for him," he said, trying to hold back a tiny smile. Lovino didn't know whether he was sickened by the sweetness in that remark, or if he admired the simple way Feliciano looked at his situation. "Why?" The latter asked.

"Well, er... Something happened when I was, um... When I was out dancing with Antonio," Lovino managed, now letting his eyes wander to wherever. He did not want the sight of Feliciano's doubtlessly amused face taunt him.

But whatever grimace was upon his brother's face, the boy stayed quiet.

"Ugh... We kissed," Lovino stated simply, face falling into his hands as emotions overwhelmed him. Awkwardness, regret, wondering. His palms concealed the rosy tint dusted over his face, and he heard a small gasp from Feliciano.

"You kissed?!" He repeated incredulously, and Lovino had a hard time detecting if he was excited about these news or just unbelieving.

Lovino grunted, but nodded his head to confirm the fact.

"Who kissed who?" Feliciano shook his sibling's shoulder lightly, trying to get Lovino to look at him.

"I'm not giving you details, you ass!" Lovino bellowed, finding the whole ordeal as strange as ever. "I was just wondering if... If this makes me-"

He looked up at Feliciano now, whose smile had washed away as he realised his brother's worrying. It soon returned, however.

"Why would it matter? You like Antonio, don't you?"

Lovino re-positioned himself in the couch again, the question making him feel ill at ease.

"But I like girls, too," he mumbled, fiddling with his book, now back in his hands.

Feliciano stood and walked over to turn the TV off. Closing his sketch pad with a pleased look over his drawing, his eyes then glanced over to Lovino. "Doesn't everybody, though?" He said, chuckling and leaving the room. But Lovino still did not feel as if his questions had been answered nor his mind soothed. Asking Feliciano hadn't been the smartest thing to do, anyway. What could the boy possibly know? He hadn't much else experience than Lovino did. And asking himself hadn't helped much.

But he did not feel as if he knew anyone who would be sharp in this topic, really. Francis would surely suggest himself, but Lovino would just as well refrain from speaking to him about such matters. And then there was Roma, who knew a lot about romance, he was sure. Or at least he thought so. That's what the man often stated himself. What else could his grandson do but to believe that then? Either way, maybe Roma deserved to know that Lovino's _friend_ wasn't-

"Lovino!" His brother's voice exclaimed from downstairs, his loud voice all worry. Lovino stood from the couch, discarding his book to the small table in front of it. Feliciano's voice tore through the air again, and Lovino furrowed his eyebrows.

"What?" He called back and hurried towards the stairs, concern rising within him as he detected Feliciano's trembling whispers.

"Oh God, oh God, oh... God..." His brother quaked, looking up as his brother entered the room.

"What happened?" Lovino's voice broke upon seeing their grandfather's body on the floor, clutched by Feliciano.

"I think he's passed out..." Feliciano gulped, waving a hand in front of Roma's closed eyes. Lovino could see that he was still breathing, and relief sunk in. Nevertheless, he hurried over to the phone, intent on calling for an ambulance. He'd known something was wrong, and now anger bottled up inside of him from the way their grandpa had insisted that they should not worry.

His fingers stopped moving as he heard Roma grunt, and he turned his head. The man's eyes were now open, and he looked as if he'd just woken up from a simple siesta. Although his face took that of a bothered look as he realised he was on the floor, held by his grandson.

"What happened?" Lovino repeated again, putting the phone away.

Roma sat himself up on the floor, hand on his forehead. "I... I must have blacked out there for a second," he forced a small laughter, but neither Lovino nor Feliciano saw it as a joke. Not this time. Not when it was more than just coughing. Lovino had heard of people fainting when having a fever or such before, but something told him not to take it with a pinch of salt, as Roma might just bid him to do.

"How long have you been lying here?" Feliciano helped him to his feet. As soon as standing, Roma swatted his hands away, managing to get himself over to a chair and sit down.

"Well, I wasn't exactly counting seconds," he said with a sheepish smile, obvious guilt in his eyes underneath the judging and concerned stares of his grandsons. It seemed clear to Lovino that Roma still refused to take it seriously. Or else he misunderstood the symptoms proving his health bad. Maybe Lovino's biggest concern right now was far from whether kissing Antonio had been for the best or not, but rather the well-being of his own family.


	10. Chapter 10

_AN: I guess it's a little late to say this now, but happy holidays!_

* * *

Shamelessly using the fact that nothing more had occurred after the last incident, Roma coaxed his two grandchildren into believing that he was now fine. Fine, okay, all right, which Lovino stubbornly refused to label him. Roma had passed out, which was not fine. He had gone unconscious, which was not okay. Sure, his coughing had ceased, and as far as Lovino knew, neither had the man passed out another time. But he suspected something. Something that was luring, waiting, resting before able to take them by surprise and throw them off guard by worsening their grandfather's health yet again. Or else he was just getting old or something. Who knew.

But Lovino was bothered, whatever the cause of Roma's not-so-well-being. His head pondering thoughts like a drummer with a vicious skill, problems eating him up from inside, disturbing him, shaking him, being the reason for him losing sleep. Because not only were there vital symptoms of his guardian's health heading south, but there was also that Hispanic man who seemed to have his goals set on changing and complicating everything for Lovino. Him whose intentions could be discussed whether they were malicious or oblivious, because the troubled Italian had a hard time telling if Antonio was purposely acting so stupid, flipping all of Lovino's thoughts to be about him, or if that was all by accident. After not showing his face for two days, the latter seemed correct. Lovino found himself merely angry with the man for not looking where he stepped. For not thinking before acting. It seemed now as if he regretted the progress he had inevitably made with Lovino.

Was he scared now? Was he contemplating whether he wanted them to go this direction or not? Well, truth be told, Lovino would just like to find out what he decided in the end. He wanted not to be left hanging, of course, and that was what mattered to him the most right now.

If Antonio decided to run, then he'd be free to do so, no doubt. Lovino was wary himself to engage in a relationship with a man for the first time when it all came down to it. And with Antonio, who he had felt such an honest loathing towards upon first encountering him. With Antonio, who he later found to be such a good friend, and who now sent tingling sparks up and down Lovino's body and mind, but who also took everything back when they reached their peak. At the climax of their development Antonio had seemingly changed his mind. Lovino would not want to stay with such a coward anyway.

But he was happy to find that though Antonio was still a jerk to him in every aspect, he came around again, few days later, looking as if nothing was different.

Perhaps all he'd needed was time to realise that a kiss wasn't a mistake; a kiss was prosperity.

A day simple as any other, he showed up at the small restaurant he'd visited so many times before, looking the same as ever. It had been but a handful of days since their last meeting, but Lovino still felt a change. As if years had gone by without them growing apart, albeit having something switching in between them. He knew not what this feeling was, but it wasn't important. Relief washed him like a bucket of hot water when Antonio entered and the smile splitting his cheeks greeted Lovino in a familiar manner. He was glad that Antonio came back. He was content in knowing that he wouldn't be left like he'd suspected every now and then. In vain he tied to press back the knowledge that the Spaniard could still decide to discard him like a dusty, old toy any second he felt like it; although even if Lovino managed to have himself believe the opposite of this possibility, the fear to be walked out on was there. All the time. With most everyone. He was certain this would not go away. He'd been left behind before, and it had scarred him, it seemed. He wished he could rid himself of the mental tattoo his past had created.

But as soon as Antonio opened his mouth and his voice, always gentle with Lovino like his hands when they had been dancing, or movements as they kissed; calmed the Italian's nerves by simply greeting him, the bitter thoughts ceased from clouding Lovino's mind.

Antonio started coming there every day. He'd ask how Lovino was, what he was doing, how Roma and Feliciano were doing. He'd crave allowance to enter the kitchen. Beam when granted permission, or disobey when denied. Either way he'd make sure to come inside and bashfully keep to the wooden stool for a while, until he was kissing Lovino's cheek and asking if he needed help. Lovino would act as if it did not affect him, and proceed to cook by himself, suggesting that Antonio sat down and kept his hands to himself instead (because not only did Lovino prefer it when the Spaniard would refrain from helping with his work, but it was also rather difficult to get it done with tan hands stroking his abdomen.)

Antonio did not mention the night they had engaged themselves in some shameless smooching, neither did they repeat the action, but he seemed to have taken it as a sign it was all right for him to act as if they were now going out. Lovino did not protest, as he'd honestly thought of that night as stepping over the threshold for them. He knew Antonio by now, though. The guy was not afraid to show Lovino that he cared, and that he craved, but another make out session seemed to be more than what he dared to do. His being was restless, his touches wondering, and Lovino smirked to himself every time he deducted Antonio restraining himself. He stated himself no expert, but it was clear as the day through the Spaniard's caressing fingers and faltering ambiance that he wasn't simply waiting for Lovino to take another step. He was not expecting the other of the two to bring them further, and he was not beckoning Lovino to be daring.

"Guess what!" Antonio encouraged one day, colliding his palms with the counter as he arrived, his excitement boiling over too much for him to even say hello the first thing he does. Lovino did not mind this, however.

"You finally figured out how to start your computer?" He replied sarcastically, rolling his eyes with a smirk at his mocking of Antonio's lack of knowledge when it came to electronics. The man had came to him at least a dozen times with problems so ridiculous Lovino had wanted to take everything and anything technical away from him. He wasn't stupid, Lovino had learnt, but he sure wasn't the one to call when the TV acted up.

The Spaniard did but give a look telling him to be serious, however, and it was not 'til now that Lovino caught the look of disappointment in his eyes. Or worry. He did not have the time to fully tell, but rather become loaded with curiosity, before they were interrupted by Roma.

"Lovino," His voice roared from his lips parted in a smile. A host-like albeit what looked like a contrived one to his grandson. "Visitors again?" He asked, patting Antonio's shoulder and peeking in at Lovino through the opening in the wall.

Antonio's eyes shifted to Roma, a smile small and confused tracing his features.

"It's always the same one," Lovino stated, his back turned against them, hands busy with work.

"Ah," Roma nodded, turning towards Antonio, "you seem to be coming over quite often, hm?" He asked, his eyes glinting with amiability, but his voice harbouring denunciatory.

"Well, I-" The Spaniard started, but was quickly interrupted.

"Maybe you'd like a job here?"

Lovino stiffened a bit, turning his head to scowl at his grandfather. And here he thought it was a family restaurant.

Confusion seemed to settle in Antonio as well, and he reluctantly opened his mouth to answer as Roma cracked up in laughter, patting his shoulder yet again, with more force than last time. Antonio couldn't help but to let his lips curl upwards.

"I'm just joking, this isn't a place for you, my boy," he winked, before his face fell to a more serious grimace, "really, maybe you and Lovino could meet up more often _after _we've closed up?"

Antonio rubbed his neck sheepishly, realising that his visits during working hours were increasing day by day. Was he really bothering Lovino that much though? Couldn't be. He still got the job done, Antonio reasoned.

He nodded nevertheless. "Yes, sir!" He chuckled quietly, offered a last smile from Roma before the latter departed.

Cleaning his throat, Antonio turned back to Lovino, whose back was once again facing him.

"Well, I'll... I'll come back later then?" He suggested, a weeny smile put on his face, "We could go out to do something."

"It's in the middle of the week," Lovino reasoned, "I still have work tomorrow, and I doubt anything's open anyway."

A chuckle escaped Antonio, who backed away from the counter, ready to leave, "We don't need entertainment to keep us... entertained."

Well that was logical, Lovino thought and would have wanted to remark as well, had Antonio not been by the door already as the Italian turned around and watched him go.

* * *

His working hours flew by at a rather forced speed, Lovino thought as he sprinkled basil over the last ordered meal. Placing it on the counter and calling out for his brother, he was quick out of the kitchen to change his clothes. He'd been taught not to leave his position until after every customer had departed, as you never knew if they might demand something else, but it was already past closing time and Lovino knew Antonio would come by at any moment. Not that it'd be too much of a bother to keep him waiting a minute or two as Lovino changed, but being ready as he arrived still looked like the easier option. Of course something would get in the way of that. Something like the irony hitting him rock-hard in the middle of his face. Something like the stuck-up customer complaining about the food and claim to deserve a new meal, something Lovino did not have time for.

But the customer was always right. Apparently.

Lovino grumbled as he redid the procedure all over again on a new plate, as Feliciano returned from apologising to their guest and leaned against the counter with a heavy sigh.

"I still don't get what he was really complaining about," the younger said, scratching the side of his head, "he just seemed generally angry."

"He's a pompous douche who doesn't know flawless cuisine even as it's given to him," Lovino snarled, "It's that really tall and lanky old man with the small glasses, isn't it?"

Feliciano nodded. "I think so. He's always complaining about _something_."

"I don't get what he's even doing here," The older Vargas muttered to himself while doing the final touches. God forbid the man would despise this round even more, as Lovino had been all but stressed during the making of it. "He pisses me off."

Feliciano took the plate in his hands, flinching a bit at the warmth and putting it down again. "What if he isn't satisfied this time either?" He grabbed the cloth hanging from his waist apron, easing the short journey to the man's table for his hands.

"Then tell him to fuck off." Lovino shrugged a shoulder, escaping upstairs as fast as he could.

* * *

Deciding that smelling like spices and sauces wouldn't do, and that the Spaniard who was so keen on spending time with Lovino _at least_ once a day could wait, Lovino chucked his clothes off and disappeared behind the curtains of the shower.

He let the water rinse the outside of his body, warm, nearly burning his skin as it traveled over him. Thoroughly ignoring whatever conversation his brother was having downstairs (sort of loudly at that), he simply assumed Antonio was there. Lovino had been rushing these last few hours, and now he was keeping Antonio waiting. But unless the guy wanted a smelling date, he'd have to spend some time conversing with Lovino's younger brother. Not that that had been much of a problem in the past, so all was fine, surely.

And now, yes, they _were_ apparently dating. Lovino had wanted to refrain from thinking about that precise subject, as well as he had a hard time fully understanding the fact. Out of all the pretty girls in Italy, he'd gone for the Spanish male merely visiting their beautiful nation. Who knew how long he was staying anyway. There was another topic his mind tended to wander right by, foolishly pretending that it wouldn't become a problem. He knew it would though. It was long since Antonio told him that he was here with his family if only for a few weeks, before he had to go back to school in Spain. The only thing striking Lovino's mind back then had been the jealousy, just vaguely, but yes, he'd wanted to continue his education as well... Despite that he had no clue in what to educate himself in. Antonio seemed to have his whole life worked out, uncharacteristically enough, according to Lovino.

The hair in his neck stood as he exited the warmth of the shower, like walking into a wall of ice. Lovino wrapped a towel around his waist, wiped the fog off the mirror with his arm, grimaced at the sticky cold that clung to him from it, and parted from the bathroom with another towel in his hands to dry his hair with.

He sighed, walking into the bedroom while rubbing his scalp with the towel, just noticing how quiet the voices from downstairs were when he spotted a wide-grinned Spaniard at the foot of his bed.

"Fuck!" He exclaimed at the heart attack-like surprise hitting him.

Antonio looked somewhat sheepish, but his smile stayed put, "Hi! Sorry, didn't mean to scare you!" He laughed, giving back the towel that had dropped from Lovino's hands at the jump scare.

"But you did," the Italian said matter-of-factly, snatching the towel back with his heart still at full speed, "Jerk. I thought you were downstairs talking to Feliciano or something."

"I was," Antonio shrugged, "but he said you were showering and that I could wait in your room." The corners of his lips pulled higher, as if smiling amiably could get Lovino's pulse back to normal any faster. If anything it might just have worked to do the opposite. "Those are nice, did Feliciano make them?" He pointed to some drawings scattered over the desk by the window. Lovino turned and nodded.

"Yeah, he draws all the time. And paints, too."

"He mentioned he likes doing that, yes," the Spaniard picked a few sheets of paper up, his eyes scanning each one. "He's extremely talented."

"I know."

"Just like you with cooking, huh?" He looked up at Lovino, the smile parting his cheeks wide and kind. Lovino felt warm.

"I, um... I guess so," He crossed his arms over his chest, not really considering his skill in cooking at the same level as that of Feliciano's when it came to art. He doubted Antonio did either, but was simply trying to be nice.

His smile never faltered though. He put the drawings down, peeked out of the window, and returned to sit upon Lovino's bed. Goosebumps rose from Lovino's exposed skin as Antonio's eyes roamed him, and he didn't realise until now that he was half-naked.

"Nice body," the Spaniard commented with a new, crooked demeanor to the way his lips tilted. Lovino froze, surprised as Antonio started laughing.

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding!" He put his hands up in defense, "Don't look so scared," his chuckled died out somewhat. Lovino frowned, tossing the towel at him as revenge. What he wanted revenge for really though, he knew not.

"Fucker." The Italian spat, half amused.

"I'm just joking!" Antonio stood, dropping the towel on the bed, "Well, I mean... Not that you don't actually have a nice bod-"

"Yeah, all right, okay!" Lovino waved his hands to shut him up, walking over to his wardrobe, "I'm gonna put on some clothes now. Then we'll go."

* * *

"So you don't have anything planned?" Lovino asked with a judging tone as they departed from the building in which he lived, and worked. Antonio had had all day doing nothing (as far as he knew) but still the dumbass had not thought of something for them to engage in.

"Well... Not really..." Antonio rubbed his neck sheepishly. He knew Lovino was far from pleased.

"You're taking me out, but you don't know where."

Antonio chuckled, "Well, Lovino, I didn't think it was such a big deal."

"It isn't," he said, shrugging, "I just... Don't want to risk us getting bored."

"Bored isn't that bad though," Antonio stated, though Lovino would have wanted to disagree to that, "You gotta be bored sometimes to have fun other times, you know."

The Italian let out a huff of laughter, shaking his head. "That's awfully wise of you."

"I know. And I thought of it myself, too." He nudged his elbow against Lovino's side jokingly. "Ah, but I thought we could just... talk."

"About what?"

"Gah, Lovino, you're always so difficult," he looked at the Italian in question with a smile and knitted eyebrows, "you don't have to _decide_ what to talk about. See? We're talking right now, but none of us decided that we would talk about this, right?"

He rolled his eyes with a huff at the unnecessary example. "Yeah, I know."

Antonio didn't say anything more. They walked a bit in silence, tranquility filling the ambiance and Lovino's mind, and perhaps just walking with Antonio was fine. The fact that he was now quiet mattered little. The sound of their surroundings calmed him. The sound of the water by the lake, the people's feet against the ground, the people's voices filling the air, the birds, the cats, the wind... Hands before shoved in pockets rummaging to get out, skin against fabric, silence, skin against skin. Lovino couldn't help but to allow his face to blossom in warm hues as tan fingers were bashfully sneaking between his own to grasp his hand. It was nice. The scenery was nice. Antonio was actually rather nice, too.

Lovino felt as if he was fourteen years old again. Young and wondering, excited, hopeful. He remembered how he used to have a crush on one of the girls in his class, but never asked her out. She was very confident, she was rather loud, albeit anything but obnoxious. She was beautiful. Innocent. Just a girl growing up. One day, she'd walked across the school yard with a sixteen year old boy's arm around her. She'd been laughing. He'd been looking proud to have a girl against his body like that. Lovino had felt bitter.

Antonio was his, though. For now at least. Lovino did not have to watch him skip away with someone else around him. He wasn't head over heels yet, and he knew that, but for the time being he found joy in imagining _others_ being jealous of _him_ for a change.

But they were like the couples Lovino would see when he was young and still in the lower grades of school. Couples proud to be couples. They would hug and spend time together, but he'd be damned if he ever saw them going further than that. Kissing was for rare occasions, but him and Antonio were older than them, and now he wanted to kiss Antonio again but could not.

He'd been the one to shamelessly smash his lips against the Spaniard's the last time, so why could he not do it again? Perchance the alcohol had had anything to do with his bold manners that night. He'd thought himself being confident enough to grab whoever he felt like and ravish their mouths if he so felt like it, but refrained from doing so even with this man who he'd have allowance to do so with. If he knew Antonio right, the guy would not complain if Lovino decided to do something of that sort.

Intentions aimed at that, he was going to kiss him again. It was not a big deal, he knew, because kissing could be platonic if so considered by whomever engaged themselves in the action. Not that he'd want to kiss Antonio in a platonic fashion, but still. No. He wanted to kiss Antonio thoroughly and with feeling. Knowing that perhaps he could set off fireworks in the Hispanic man's body and mind made him feel better than anything else, and knowing just what effect kisses could sometimes have, his kisses could surely work such wonders. If luck was on his side. He'd probably never know, unless Antonio decided to tell him how it made him feel to be touched by Lovino. He wasn't too sure if he wanted that vocalised, however. It might be embarrassing.

"I never heard from our friend since that night," Antonio spoke again, his tone giving away the frivolous manner in his words.

"What?"

"Our friend. That guy I danced with."

Lovino felt a bit disoriented. He'd been deep in thought, and this man with his jacket half-off and, er... _Impressive_ dancing skills, well he hadn't been much on Lovino's mind, were he to be honest. "Oh..."

A chuckle escaped Antonio. "Too bad, he was fun."

They reached the stone wall framing the broad river running by, and stopped to lean against it. Lovino let go of Antonio's hand, the sudden lack of body warmth making him feel a bit colder.

He could feel the Spaniard looking at him. Staring with that small, content smile that he wore way too often. Lovino wondered briefly if the man was aware of this.

"Be careful not to fall in again," he advised, and Lovino glared at him.

"I was drunk."

Antonio laughed again, "Oh, is it a touchy subject?" He asked jokingly, earning Lovino sticking his tongue out at him.

"Just stop talking, will you?" Lovino shook his head, eyes locked with the houses on the other side of the water. Rows and rows of houses in various colours. A tiny smile to match Antonio's traced Lovino's lips.

"You who were so worried we wouldn't find anything to talk about, now won't let me talk at all? Oh, Lovino..."

"If you don't stop talking I'm going to throw you in the water." He threatened. His smile gave him away though. Hollow words, oh well.

"It's hard not to mess with you," Antonio turned around to lean his back against the wall, "you ask for it, you know."

Lovino looked at him. He wasn't sure if Antonio was doing just that: messing around, or if he was stating a fact. A lot of people seemed to enjoy messing with the poor Italian quite a lot. But he did sure as hell not ask for it!

"I think you should shut up."

"I think you should make me." Antonio answered cockily, earning another glare from Lovino.

"What?"

"Make me."

Lovino stood up straight, only his hand still resting against the wall. He swallowed. It was hard to tell whenever Antonio was being serious and not. The line was thick, but his vision became blurred, it seemed, whenever he'd try to tell. Antonio was rather fickle, and at times oracular, behind the dense moron Lovino sometimes took him for. Well. Supposedly he actually was a dense moron, but a person often had more sides to themselves than one.

This seemed like another side of Antonio. Not one that Lovino hadn't seen a glimpse of before, but certainly one that felt unfamiliar. Lovino was far from unnerved by it, however. Not even as the Spaniard's face turned more serious. As it dropped. As Lovino knew he was indicating something, well no, he couldn't be repelled or so. Not when this was what he'd been furtively waiting for.

"Well," Lovino's voice was low, and quiet, and barely audible; although he still wasn't uncertain or so. He took a step closer to Antonio, whose lips tilted again, only not as much as usually, and his eyes fell lower. Lovino's face held a blank expression as he stood in front of and very close to the brunet, who swallowed heavily and smiled a bit wider. "Okay." Lovino's word was a breath against Antonio's face, and then his lips a ghost on Antonio's very own.

The Spanish man smiled into the kiss, that gradually deepened and heated them both. There were no people around them, much to Lovino's luck. He'd checked. Just a split second, but he'd made sure that no one else but the quiet old man always sitting on the same park bench was present. He was pretty sure that man was blind, but he seemed more than happy and content either way. Every afternoon he'd sit by the lake, and Lovino had never actually seen him leave or arrive... But sometimes he was elsewhere.

At least he sure hoped this elder male's vision was failing him, or else he would have found it rather awkward to skilfully roam another person's mouth with his own, as he was doing that very second.

A shiver stayed put in his back as Antonio's fingers were moving across it. His hands, wide and tan and full of experience, massaged the skin through Lovino's garments. Lovino's were at their own stations. One with a firm grip of the front of Antonio's jacket, the other spreading out its fingers in his hair.

Their lips were in a dance, and heads dazed. Perhaps their actions were inappropriate, but that was far from on Lovino's mind just then. His thoughts were Antonio, and how he had been waiting to kiss him again. It embarrassed him, doing as much as thinking about it, but kissing him had felt good. So good, and he could do it many more times. Hopefully this was a mutual thought, or else he was an experience in the brunet's life passed by and enjoyed, albeit unremarkable. Lovino swore he'd beat him upside down if Antonio was anything other than serious about this.

But despite his always present smiles, and his small jokes and his teasing, he seemed serious in the matter. He seemed to be serious as he touched Lovino, and kissed him, and told him with messed up hair to take it easy as they were still in public. He definitely seemed more than serious as his ambiance shone of worry and expectation, before suggesting them finding somewhere there wasn't any chance of them being arrested for physically acting out desires. They couldn't go home, he'd said, and Lovino had agreed to that. They needed to be alone. But there was a small hotel nearby, they knew, and apparently it was cheap as well, at least if they were there for one night only. Antonio was completely serious. It was obvious to the Italian. Especially as a phone call interrupted them, so close to getting what they wanted.

They were both serious. Lovino was terrified. The world was an aching mess, and his head was frozen. The look in Antonio's eyes told him that he heard it when Feliciano's shaking voice informed his brother that their grandfather was coughing blood. None of them felt like joking now, and Lovino couldn't remember a time he'd been so fast to put on his clothes and scatter outside before.


	11. Chapter 11

"What happened?" Lovino's voice broke through, a bit higher in pitch than he would have liked.

Feliciano was shaking his head, arms crossed and eyes glossy as well as tinted a vague red from crying. He did not look at his brother, and neither did he acknowledge the person accompanying him. Perhaps he knew it was Antonio, or else he just didn't care with matters of the like when his grandfather was barely even conscious.

"He had a coughing fit, like usual, only it wouldn't stop... it..." His words faded and left seconds of silence surrounding them, before he cleared his throat and tried another time, "I noticed blood on his shirt, so I went to get some paper-" he motioned a hand towards the bundle of tissues covered in thick, dark stains, lying on the nightstand beside the bed currently allowing Roma to rest in its embrace.

Lovino felt anger within him; a large shadow over the worry that had suffocated him and pushed his legs to run faster just a mere handful of minutes ago. Was Roma not the guardian, the wise and the adult one in their tiny family? Should he not realise when it had gone too far? Inevitably, of course, he was frightened. Lovino did not consider this an excuse for such reckless behaviour, however.

Their grandfather woke up eventually though, but none was truly ready to utter a word. What was there to say? Roma knew that they were disappointed, and scared to death, and they felt as if they had vocalised what was needed already.

Lovino and Antonio had walked downstairs then, the latter not making a single attempt to hide his worry for Lovino, whose eyes were pink and with a disgruntled wrinkle in between his eyebrows, looking as if it was planning to stay for quite a while.

He held his shoulders, squeezed them, tried to have their eyes meeting; although Lovino's was fixed on the floor, assuring words leaving him and telling Antonio not to worry more. It would be fine, and it was not his problem. Antonio didn't say too much, but he showed his disagreement. Lovino was his problem, and Lovino's family included, he'd wanted to remark, but refrained from doing so. The Italian wasn't in much need of that, now that he'd be doing not much else but trying to get some sleep, which he'd failed to succeed with that night.

* * *

Their small family seemed to be the masters of pretending that everything was fine, Lovino found. Two days later Feliciano was eagerly talking about Ludwig again, who he'd been spending the previous day with. Lovino did not listen all that carefully, allowing his mind to drift off elsewhere instead. Much preferred, and easily done. Roma seemed to be listening though, smiling and asking questions and coughing every now and then. It seemed hard for him to get much of his meal down, which bothered Lovino, making him want to depart right then and there. Ignoring problems never helped solving them, but momentarily creating a false happiness, if anything. He'd like to get his thoughts whirling about and being occupied with something else.

"Ludwig has an older brother too, but he isn't in Italy with him," Feliciano told, Roma's face showing little interest of this German, but fascination for the smitten state his grandson was in. At least he did not seem to mind what so ever that Feliciano was obviously stooping head over heels with the blond male. Lovino often thought about offering a more detailed explanation of what relationship he was currently tied together with Antonio in. As far as he knew, they were still merely friends in Roma's eyes. Unless Feliciano had told, or the old man had realised it himself.

His attention was brought back to his surroundings as the small bell by the front door chimed, announcing somebody's presence.

"We're closed." Lovino hollered at the late guest, but the door opened and in stepped a familiar Frenchman, nonetheless. "Why does he keep doing that?" Lovino asked quietly, his eyebrows furred at him being ignored by Francis.

"Greetings, my friends," Francis swung an arm out in a wide gesture as he spoke, the smile splitting his cheeks soft and friendly. Feliciano and Roma greeted him without hesitation, all the while Lovino kept to glaring at him while he took his coat off. Lovino wondered momentarily why he bothered to keep a jacket with him at all... It was warm enough for him to discard it. At least until night arrived, that was.

"What brings you here?" Roma's amiable tone echoed, him turning on his chair, arm over the backrest, to see Francis.

"Boredom, thirst," he stated, winking as Roma raised his own glass of claret coloured liquid, knowing Francis' love for the beverage even after the few encounters they had had. Francis footsteps towards them suddenly stopped, before slowly continuing, his demeanour wary, "I'm not interrupting, am I?"

The older Italian man waved a hand dismissively, brows knitted and lips curled, "Not at all! We just finished eating dinner."

"Ah, _meraviglioso_," he pulled up a chair, seating himself with smooth movements.

"Your Italian sounds a lot better, Francis," Feliciano complimented with a smile and a nod, standing up to take his plate and cutlery away.

With his cheek resting against the palm of his hand, Lovino muttered, "He could practice his pronunciation."

"_Grazie_, Feliciano, I've been practicing vocabulary and phrases lately," the French blonde spoke, "knowing Italian while in Italy is proving extremely helpful." He nodded with a grimace of sarcastic consideration about his words, causing a chuckle to escape Roma.

"Or his everything," Lovino continued mumbling to himself.

"Feliciano, would you mind fetching another glass while in there?" Roma hollered towards the kitchen, Feliciano answering by sticking his hand out through the open door, giving them a thumb up.

He soon returned with a glass for Francis, and put it down in front of the latter while seating himself.

"How long are you staying?" Their grandfather asked the Frenchman, the two already conversing casually. One would almost think that their friendship traced back several years upon seeing them like this together, Lovino found, and quickly finished his meal before rising and departing towards the kitchen with his dishes. He lingered a bit longer once out of the room, taking any chance of making the seconds tick by without him having to listen to that sloppy accent. Unfortunately he'd been brought up with strict manners, and leaving the table when guests had just sat down would doubtlessly be rude. Not that he himself minded much. The others certainly would, however.

He heard their voices throwing sentences and questions in between each other, Feliciano contributing to the conversation as well every now and then. As Lovino was to leave the kitchen again, the phone rang. It must have been luck calling, he thought.

"Yes?" He answered, scratching the back of his head.

"Hey, it's me," he recognised Antonio on the other end, and reminded himself to thank the guy later, "how are you guys doing?"

Lovino shrugged, despite the fact that the Spaniard could not see him doing so, "We're... fine."

"Is Roma all right?"

"For now, yeah," Lovino leaned against the wall, his sight reaching out to the dining hall and to the smile on the men's faces. "He's gone back to just coughing."

"Ah, well that's good," Antonio said, although his optimism seemed faltering, "and... How are _you_?"

Lovino was quiet for a moment, calmly watching as Roma talked and nodded and smiled, looking as if nothing was wrong. He was a good actor, and Lovino had to give him that if anything. One wouldn't even notice the way his face seemed paler nowadays. Not with the way his smile shone so brightly.

"I was never ill to begin with."

The tan man on the other end let out a small chuckle at Lovino's misunderstanding, some slight rummaging being heard before he spoke again, "I know, and that's excellent, but how are you feeling?"

"I'm-"

"This must be hard on you, hm?"

The young Italian fell silent for another moment, orbs flickering down to meet the ground. "I'm... I'm okay."

Antonio hummed quietly, his voice soft and low as he spoke, "I should hope so," he said, "or else I'll have to make some more room for you on my calendar. But that's fine. Being a therapist can't be that hard, right?"

Lovino let out a huff of laughter. At least the idiot wasn't making it more melancholy than Lovino already felt. He did not need having his mood put down even more with buckets of sympathy or pity. Especially not from Antonio. "You say such stupid things." He sighed, shaking his head.

"If it takes years of education - which I expect - it might become a slight problem though. But I'd do that for you."

Lovino breathed in, removing the phone from his ear for a few seconds, his eyes once again back on the company out by the small, round table and the wine.

"Don't say things like that," he muttered once the telephone was back by his ear.

Antonio chuckled lightly, "Why not? I mean it, Lovino," he sounded teasing, and Lovino couldn't help but to let his warm face form a smile.

"I don't want to hear it. I'm going to hang up on you, asshole," his back parted from the wall as he stood up straight, feet tapping against the floor in lack of much else to do.

"All right, all right," Antonio's laughter bubbled up again, quietly, before he sighed, "what about Feliciano? Is he sad?"

"Well, he's not showing it if so, and he usually doesn't hold back his feelings much," Lovino said, sitting down on the small wooden stool by the wall. "But I think he's worried. Actually, I think we're all worried."

Antonio hummed affirmatively, "That's understandable. I'm a bit worried myself, to be honest with you."

"Yeah..." Lovino's voice came out as nearly a whisper, his thoughts beginning to travel elsewhere momentarily. He held the phone between his cheek and shoulder, rubbing his arm with his now free hand.

"Well, I just wanted to check on you," the Spaniard spoke, "see if you were doing good with what happened. But I gotta go help with dinner now," he laughed quietly, and Lovino could hear rummaging sounds again as Antonio stood. Or sat. Or whatever he was currently doing.

Lovino huffed, "You know, _I_ still haven't met _your_ family." He realised this just now, wondering but not asking if Antonio had even told his close ones that he was dating Lovino. An Italian _guy_. Perhaps it wouldn't be a problem, though.

"You haven't?" Antonio sounded genuinely surprised, "Oh, well... Do you want to? Because that wouldn't be too hard to fix. I bet they'd love to meet you."

Lovino shrugged again. "I- Yeah, I don't know... sure. Not that... it's urgent or anything, just-"

"No, yeah, I get it. Um... It's somewhat larger than yours though," he laughed, "but not all of us followed to Italy."

"Oh, okay," he mumbled, vague memories of the Spaniard mentioning a few siblings every now and then appearing in his mind. It hadn't been much to consider before though, he thought.

"Ah, yes... Oh, now my mother is yelling at me, I have to go!" He laughed nervously, and Lovino noticed the indistinct sound of a woman shouting in Spanish in the other end of the phone. He sniggered at this.

* * *

Lovino was upset. He found himself disgruntled after days of not hearing from Antonio. Trying to call him himself had proven useless as well. Signals went on and on but there was never an answer. For a while, he'd considered if Antonio had gone somewhere, but figured that the guy would have told him about it if that was the case. Evidently, it was not the first time the Spaniard mystically disappeared from Lovino's life over a brief period of time, but it wasn't something the latter wanted to grow accustomed to. Antonio could come across as somewhat clingy, so the fact that he chose to simply leave his boyfriend completely alone all of a sudden seemed uncharacteristic, Lovino thought.

He would not imagine that something big was up though. Antonio was probably just too stupid to remember to tell Lovino if he was to be unreachable for a few days or so. A few days which had, unfortunately, nearly turned into a week. This jerk who usually made sure to show his face daily inside their restaurant, or else invite Lovino to come with him outside, seemed to have suddenly vanished. And though Lovino hadn't really been in a wide amount of serious relationships, he was fairly sure that the one he was part of as of now was a rather special one. He and Antonio hung out as if they were best friends, most of the time. Save for the occasional (and recently very often) hand-holding, kissing, touching, hugging and playing with hair that occurred. As well as the sugar-sprinkled words of affection constantly leaving Antonio's lips in sighs or whispers, which Lovino would often like to return, but was unable to. Love was far from an area he was used to. He hoped, however, that he might become more comfortable with time. Antonio could teach him; ease him into it. This inevitably planted the fear of making the Spaniard grow tired of him, deep in Lovino's mind. It was always pecking on him from inside, telling him to show that he _did_ have a soft side, and if Antonio wanted it to, it could be reserved for him only. Thoughts of the sort made Lovino feel uneasy and forced flames to the skin of his face; visible, warm and flushed flames of emotion.

He sighed to himself, pondering thoughts and cursing over the Spaniard as he wandered around the marketplace for groceries. Feliciano had not followed him this time, which made Lovino feel peaceful, albeit somewhat out of place. He scanned the list in his hand, realising that he hadn't even checked off half of the objects he needed. It wouldn't surprise him if he had passed them though, too concentrated on his own dancing thoughts to pick them up and pay for them.

He swore silently to himself, turning around to take another stroll pass the stalls, when accidentally bumping into somebody. God forbid it'd be his brother deciding to follow him without warning.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" A female voice apologised in English, and Lovino looked up, meeting with a soft, sweet face of fair skin, framed with sandy blonde curls. She was tall, thin, busty, and her almond-shaped eyes seemed to be smiling at him.

She was extremely pretty, he decided right away. Had the Italian not had himself occupied by Antonio he would have flirted with her, doubtlessly.

"That's fine," he smiled amiably at her, the charms he aimed at women naturally activated, "are you okay?"

The blonde nodded, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. Her eyes flickered downwards, realisation flourishing in them before the brushed past Lovino, reaching for something on the ground. He turned with curiosity, surprised when she stood up to face him again with a familiar note in her hand.

"Did you drop this?" She asked, and his eyes skimmed through the listed objects on the small piece of paper. Yes, that was certainly his.

Lovino nodded, smile back in place. "Oh, yeah, thank you." He took it, nodding his head once in gratefulness. His fingers fiddled with the edges somewhat, before he decided to voice a question suddenly popping up in his mind.

"Are you foreign?" He asked, "I was just thinking... since you're not speaking Italian and... your accent doesn't sound Italian, either." A sheepish chuckle escaped him, hoping he wasn't being rude or so.

The girl did not seem negatively affected by his wondering, however, and simply smiled at him. "It's that noticeable, huh?" She giggled and shook her head, the dark-blonde curls - held back with a red ribbon tied like a diadem over her head - swaying back and forth. "I'm from Belgium, actually."

"Oh," he nodded, noting to himself that it must have been the first time he met a Belgian.

"But I do intend to learn Italian eventually!" She quickly informed him with a small chuckle, "Ah, well... When I can afford it, that is." She shrugged a shoulder.

"You know, if it isn't too straight-forward or so... I could always teach you." Lovino offered, hoping she would not take his kindness as flirting. Most of the conversing he did with ladies seemed to be with romantic intentions, however, and he found that talking with a female under friendly circumstances only was a bit unfamiliar. He wanted to laugh at himself for the awful silliness. But when being brought up by a ladies' man, it sort of rubbed off on him, he reasoned.

"Really?" Her smile grew, beaming with thankfulness and interest. "That would be wonderful! Thank you!" She offered a pale, fair hand out to him, and he took it gently. "I already know French and German fairly well, but none of those seem to be helping much here," she laughed, "I'm Emma."

"Lovino," He introduced himself, immensely glad that Feliciano had chosen this day of all to not follow him here.

* * *

As it turned out, her day was already planned out with various tasks that needed to be done, so Emma instead offered to come by his house the day after. Lovino had agreed, since he had no work nor any place to be that he knew of. He had given her his address, telling her to come at which ever hour she preferred. Around three in the afternoon, she had suggested.

Although when Lovino returned to his home, all thoughts of his new acquaintance vanished from his mind, as if they had never been there to begin with, now replaced by the nagging matter of not having been called from the idiotic foreigner he nowadays had to refer to as his boyfriend. Feliciano told that they had only received one phone call while Lovino was out, and it had been someone dialing the wrong number.

Lovino informed his brother of the Belgian beauty coming for a visit the following day, and his brother seemed ecstatic. "You're not meeting her," Lovino had protested upon seeing the boy's eyes widen in excitement, always happy to make new friends - especially if they were pretty girls.

"Why not?" His brother had demanded valid reasons, which Lovino didn't really have. He couldn't care less about that though.

"Because I say so," was of course the best that came to mind at the very moment. His brother had only huffed with a shake of his head, however. It wasn't as if he was going to hit on her, if that was what worried the older of the two... Although Feliciano was fairly sure that was not of Lovino's intentions either.

* * *

The next day, Lovino slept in longer than usual, surprised as he was woken up by Feliciano, for once it not being the other way around. Apparently his brother had been up since early that morning, but Lovino had no clue as to why, and quite frankly the question of it didn't stay in his head for much longer than the time it took to rise from the warm sheets.

But soon he was up and out of place for being the last one to wake that morning, which was unusual for him. It took him some time to eat breakfast and make himself decent, his mind tired still and his body not completely woken up yet. His guest arrived earlier than expected, already knocking on their backdoor (like Lovino had advised her to) shortly after two o' clock. Emma wore an impeccable smile, her bottle-green eyes amiably greeting Lovino alike the words flowing from her lips. She was clothed in a knee-long, red dress and a beige cardigan with sleeves rolled up. Her heels clicked when she walked inside, looking around while tucking hair behind her ear with long, fair fingers.

"Do you work here as well?" She asked, walking out into the middle of the dining hall, which was currently empty of people, save for herself and Lovino, entering after her.

"Technically this is Feliciano's work place. I'm situated in the kitchen."

"Oh, really?" She turned towards him, looking genuinely interested to hear that, "You must be fantastic at cooking then."

"Skill in cooking usually comes with being a chef," he smiled, shrugging a shoulder. Emma laughed quietly at that, pulling out a chair for herself by one of the tables. Her eyes still roamed her surroundings.

"I have to say, I'm not that bad myself. Especially when it comes to desserts." She waved a finger in the air, matter-of-factly, and a short laughter escaped her. She leaned back in her chair as Lovino sat down opposite her.

"Is that so?"

She hummed affirmatively, orbs now falling in place on Lovino as they spoke, "Oh yes. I'll have you try my Belgian waffles sometime, I'm quite famous for them back home."

Lovino could not recall trying anything Belgian before, that he knew of, and felt sincerely eager to do so. Especially if made by someone good enough to brag about it, even though she happened to do so somewhat humbly. He had heard of the country itself being known for its pleasing desserts, chocolate and waffles in the center of that fame.

"Sure. And I'll make you something Italian, hm?" He offered, earning a giggle and a nod from Emma, whose eyes flickered down to the thin wrist-watch she wore, before she rummaged around in the purse Lovino hadn't even noticed her bringing along.

"Yes, and speaking of Italian," she mumbled, pulling a small notepad out of her bag, dropping it on the table between them, "let's learn some."

* * *

The two hours that followed taught Lovino two things:

One, he sucked as a teacher.

Two, that did not matter all too much, since Emma proved to be an incredibly fast learner. At least when it came to languages, it seemed.

Halfway through having her memorizing random nouns, numbers from one to ten, as well as getting to know his student during it all, Feliciano decided to show up. Lovino was clueless as to where he had been before, but as soon as he heard the door open and his brother's face peeked into the hall, he figured he'd been out with either one of his many friends, or else the blonde German. Again. They seemed to be spending more and more time together, much to Lovino's dismay.

Of course, as soon as the younger Vargas realised who was sitting by Lovino's table, he made sure to introduce himself. He kissed her knuckles and revealed his name, but all in all he didn't flirt with her as he sat down and interrupted their lesson with normal conversation. Lovino was somewhat surprised, but thought that Feliciano perhaps had made the same decisions as himself when it came to ignoring Emma's pretty appearance and kind ambiance. Having a female friend wouldn't cause any trouble, but hitting on her probably would.

And the two got along fine, it seemed, which wasn't much of a surprise to Lovino. The brothers listened as Emma told them more about Belgium, which they knew very little of since before. They found that she hadn't been in Italy for very long, but was planning on staying for a while. "It's very different from what I'm used to," she explained, "which is both good and bad, I suppose."

Feliciano learnt about her cooking skills as well, and demanded that she showed them, excited to try the desserts she made sound so heavenly. Emma gladly accepted, saying that as long as they had the ingredients she needed it wouldn't be of much trouble. And it being a restaurant and all, ingredients wasn't much of a problem, and soon the Italian brothers were learning how to make Belgian waffles the right way, all while repeating her Italian lesson as well as leading casual conversations.

"We used to be a lot closer, but nowadays I just feel as if we've been growing apart," Emma spoke, trailing into discussing her brother, after Feliciano had asked her about her family, "hand me the sugar, dear."

Feliciano poured half a cup of sugar into the bowl as she stirred, interest peaked as she continued her storytelling.

"I'm not sure what happened, honestly, but we had a fallout, and now things are a bit awkward."

"Did he follow you here?" Lovino asked, "Five, six, seven."

"No, he didn't. Traveling abroad was never really his thing." She motioned towards the salt, "_Cinque, sei, sette_."

Lovino carefully put the salt in the bowl, nodding his head.

"But at least I know I can still trust him, which is good. He's very protective still."

"That's so nice!" Feliciano leaned against the counter, grabbing the vanilla extract and smelling it, before handing it to Emma who poured it in by herself. "I wish Lovino would be move protective of me!" He teased, pouting and reaching his hand out to poke his brother's cheek, causing him to swat Feliciano's hand away with a grimace as Emma giggled at them.

"You two seem to be close though, hm?" She glanced up at them, and Lovino shrugged. They fought a lot, which made him wish almost daily that Feliciano would leave the country for good, but he was still his younger brother. Despite how much of an annoying prick he fought so hard to be, of course Lovino couldn't help but to care for him.

"I guess." Lovino muttered, glaring at Feliciano as his face beamed up in a grin. "Table."

Emma poured some milk and flour into the bowl, a soft smile tracing her lips. "_Tavolo_."

"Well, Lovino didn't have a lot of friends when we were little, so we-" Feliciano begun, parting from the counter as he spoke.

"Hey, shut the hell up!" Lovino interrupted him, but the younger of the two simply chuckled.

"Sorry, Lovino!" He put his hands up in defense, walking towards the open door, "I'm going to go check on Grandpa, be right back." He informed, dusting his palms off on his apron as he disappeared from the kitchen.

"Take your time, idiot." Lovino muttered under his breath, turning back towards Emma to help her with the baking.

She let out a breath of laughter, shaking her head slightly. "You two are happy to have each other though, you do know that, right?"

"I suppose, but he's a pain in the ass most of the time," he informed, crossing the kitchen to find the waffle iron which he knew was hidden somewhere in there, supposedly as deep into one of the cupboards as possible, considering how seldom he'd actually used it. Emma was quiet for a minute or so, before releasing a content sigh, quiet but audible.

Her voice was calm when she spoke again, back still turned against Lovino, "You know, I thought it was nothing but a stereotype that Italian men always hit on girls," she laughed shortly, "but most everyone I've met have at _least_ commented on my looks. You guys are pretty smooth though, I have to give you that."

Lovino chuckled, almost a bit guilty with the knowledge that he would have been another one to shamelessly flirt with her, had it not been for Antonio. Supposedly it was a good thing that Lovino's conscience was greater than his lust, as it seemed.

She continued, her tone amused, "You haven't really done anything of the like so far though. I'm impressed."

Finally finding what he was searching for, Lovino pulled the waffle iron out from behind all the other objects hiding it, and placed it on the counter beside Emma. "All right, first of all, not _all_ men in Italy are the same," he pointed out, causing the girl beside him to laugh slightly.

"I know, I know." She nodded.

"And second of all, there's..." Lovino trailed off, scratching the back of his head as he thought over his words to himself, "there's, uh..."

Emma looked over at him, smaragdine eyes curious. "There's?" She repeated, motioning with her hand for him to go on.

He plugged in the waffle iron, eyes scanning the work of his fingers, the counter, the bowl, but for some reason not wanting to meet with Emma's even as he spoke to her. "A person." He finally stated, and saw the smile that grew on the Belgian's face in the corner of his eyes.

"Aha! Who might that be then?" She loosely nudged an elbow against his side, and he felt his skin heating just the slightest, somewhat mad that he put himself in the situation of having to talk about Antonio, of all people and subjects.

"It's, just... It's no one." He shrugged, glancing up at her as she seemed set on coaxing some facts out of him. "Just some... Ugh, some idiot, I..." He stammered, trying to see if Feliciano was coming back or not. He really did not feel like conversing about Antonio in particular if his brother was to be there, doubtlessly with a taunting smirk on his face. Perhaps it was accurate though, that Lovino did make it way too easy to tease him. Telling himself to get it together and act more composed never seemed to change anything though. He had tried that useless technique more than a few times.

"Come on now, dear, can't be an idiot if you fancy them," she reasoned, "so are you two dating or should I wish you good luck?"

Lovino rubbed his arm slightly, letting out a sigh, "No, we're... dating."

"Congratulations then," She giggled, before the smile faded from her face upon further inspection of Lovino's expressions. "Or... Is something wrong?"

He looked back at her, reminding himself for a moment not to give away too much information about his personal life to this girl who was still nearly a stranger, now that he thought about it. But even after only a second encounter she seemed excessively reliable. She was easy to talk to, and to be around, and he got the feeling that eventually, she would become almost like a sister to him. He hoped so, was he to be honest, for Emma seemed to him like a wonderful person, after all.

"Not really," he sighed, "it's just that I haven't heard from him in a really long time."

She looked a little surprised, but a smile grew back on to her features, "Oh, it's a he? Do I know him?" She brushed her hand over the counter, before hopping up to sit on it, her legs swinging back and forth in the air.

A huff of laughter slipped from him, "I don't really think so, he's from Spain."

"I know people from Spain," she hit his arm lightly, "did he move here recently?"

Lovino shook his head, leaning against the counter, "He's only here on vacation or something. He hasn't moved here."

She blinked in silence, before narrowing her almond-shaped eyes slightly, "What's his name?"

Lovino rubbed his neck, looking up at her where she sat on the flat surface beside him, "Antonio, what, you _do_ know him?"

Emma laughed briefly, leaning back a bit as she nodded. "I do! Wow, that's odd, isn't it?"

And it really was, Lovino thought, as he watched his brother descending from the stairs through the door-opening. He hummed affirmatively, confused as he looked back at Emma, her face falling as the smile she just wore faded with what looked like realisation.

"Emma?" He caught her attention, and she looked back at him with knitted brows.

"Do you mean he hasn't been reachable at all for... What, the past few days?"

Feliciano entered, still wearing his apron with smudges of flour on it. Lovino nodded at her question, and she looked almost sympathetic at this. "Why, what's he been doing?"

She got down from the counter, smoothing her dress and apron out with her palms and brushing a lock of hair from her face, "Perhaps it isn't news to you, since you are already dating him..." She motioned with her hands as she spoke, and Lovino's eyes flickered to his brother, who looked curious as to what they were talking about, them seemingly more serious than in the frivolous mood that lingered when he'd left. Emma continued, sounding somewhat uncertain, "But the last time I spoke to him they were getting ready to go back to Spain. He still has school and such, so..."

"Who?" Feliciano asked, "Antonio? I thought he was older than you, Lovino."

"He... What? He's going back to..." Lovino ignored his brother, eyebrows furrowing in disbelief.

Emma looked over at the younger of the brothers, "He's in University, Feliciano," she smiled faintly, and Feliciano nodded at her.

"What a fucking asshole! How come he hasn't told me?" Lovino exclaimed, untying his own apron and dropping it on the counter. "This is bullshit, I... Do you have his address? I'm going to kick his fucking ass out of Italy myself."

"You don't have it yourself?" Feliciano questioned, and Lovino really wished he would have shut up, more so now than ever before.

"No, stupid, you _know_ that we're usually _out_ doing something," he scattered around for a pen and a piece of paper, hurriedly handing them to Emma as soon as found. She thought for a while before scribbling an address with a fine handwriting, giving the note back to Lovino.

"He's been here a lot of times though..." Feliciano mused, shrugging his shoulders.

"Okay, first: this is a restaurant, you dumb fuck. Second: he's Antonio, and if _I_ don't come to _him_ every other hour, _he_ comes to _me_." Lovino rolled his eyes, seeing his vague reflection in the mirror-like surface of one of the refrigerators, but ignoring the white smear of flour on his cheek. He walked towards the door, before stopping suddenly, turning back towards Emma and his brother.

"I'm sorry for leaving you here with... this," he held a hand out towards Feliciano, and Emma couldn't help but to giggle softly, "but I _really_ have to go and yell at him right now."

The Belgian shook her head, waving at him to leave, "It's fine! We'll just finish the waffles while you're gone."

Lovino forced a smile at her out of politeness, before turning and hurrying outside into the sun with a deep sigh. That complete bastard ought to have had a good reason for not informing Lovino that he was departing to another country, the Italian thought, his steps quick and a headache creeping up on him. He was unsure how to feel, overwhelmed with the sensation of betrayal, disappointment, anger and confusion engulfing him all at once. Perhaps it was a misunderstanding though. He hoped, and he tried to tell himself, that there was a valid explanation to whatever was going on, and that by going over there and scolding Antonio would only make him look like a fool. He had never wanted to be a fool so much ever before, however, rather than being left here by that dumb, peculiar, Spanish man, whose actions and intentions never ceased to amaze Lovino.

* * *

_AN: Writing a character who you have only ever read about a handful of times before sure is hard, which is my reason for not updating in... How long now? Meh, whatever. My point is that I hope I did Belgium all right, since I haven't included her in my work ever before. Being the perfectionist that I am, I did a whole lot of research about her, her relationship with some of the other characters, Netherlands, and Belgian desserts. I'm still as unsatisfied as a writer can possibly be though, but I'm always paranoid when it comes to my own writing, so it doesn't really matter._

_I was a bit unsure of what to name her, to be honest. I never liked "Bella" or "Laura" or "Charlotte/Charlotta" for her, but "Femke" and "Emma" always felt right. The first time Belgium ever appeared in a fic for me was probably when I read... Uh... Was it Bottoms Up? Anyways, her name was Femke, so that's really what I personally prefer to refer to her as. I know it's a very uncommon one for her though, so I ignored my personal preferences and gave her Emma instead. Hima should just give everyone canon names already._

**_Italian translation:_**

___Meraviglioso - Wonderful  
Grazie - Thank you  
__Cinque, sei, sette - Five, six, seven  
_Tavolo - Table


	12. Chapter 12

Lovino marched, his upset mood radiating from the very sound of his shoes against the ground. Stomp, stomp, stomp. And the wind he faced, with just an ounce of regret within him for not putting on a jacket, made goosebumps erect and shivers come to life on his skin. He wasn't sure now if the feeling curling up in a lump to press in his throat was anger or betrayal. For all he knew, it could be both. Or a thousand other things. One thing he had learnt lately was of his ability to feel so much more than he thought earlier. Before he experienced as much silly uncertainty and ambiguous lust as he had, in waves, these past few weeks. But he hadn't learnt to feel so incredibly just to have his own emotions shoved in his face, malicious laughter mocking him because he allowed himself to be a bit more vulnerable. Because he let his guard down for one more person. Antonio hadn't exactly pointed a finger and exclaimed the humour in Lovino's gullibility, but by leaving the country - and Lovino - without warning or apologies wouldn't be much different, the Italian thought.

He found himself curious as to what Antonio's home looked like, in the middle of his growing anger ready to be shoved in the Spanish man's face. Did he live in an apartment or a small villa? Was it permanently theirs, did they come here every summer or so? How did it look on the inside?

Well, Lovino was quite certain he wouldn't be offered a tour through all the rooms after greeting Antonio with harsh words and... maybe just a few punches. That is, if he failed to control his own upset impulses, which dawned on him to be a big possibility. Usually, he didn't try hard to, either. If he wanted to show his dismay, it was either go big or go home.

He figured that however he let his wrath explode, Antonio would have to be man enough to take it, considering the fact that he was himself the reason for Lovino's outburst to come. And Lovino couldn't believe it if it was really true, that he would leave without saying so. It seemed so unlike him, and the Italian started to figure that perhaps he should go easy on him after all, because he might have had a fantastic reason for being such an ass.

But Lovino couldn't help but to hope not. He hoped there was no reason, and that it was one fat, blatant lie, all due to Emma's misunderstanding, this nonsense about Antonio flying back to his own stupid country. Lovino didn't want to be left alone, because even if he had his family, and did have people who loved him and cared about him, he'd feel so very alone without Antonio. This was definitely something he hadn't realised before, he remarked internally. Perchance he now knew what the lump in his throat was for. Fear.

For being left by someone he'd been tricked into being so enticed by. Left by the only one who he felt actually saw him; the only one who bothered to look at him. It was a damn risky card, relying on Antonio as much as he was growing to do, but recently he'd stopped trying to prevent it entirely. The fact only made him more upset, and perhaps even more so confused.

He held the small note out in front of him, eyes shifting from the scribbled address to the houses around him. He knew this town fairly well, and deducted that he was on the right way. Antonio had in fact stated that they lived rather close. That had proven correct and convenient every time the Spaniard showed up at Lovino's doorstep without a vehicle, but a very grand smile.

The thought of how Antonio would react when Lovino was the one in _his_ home for a change amused the latter.

The town-houses reached far ahead of him, row upon row. Looking for the right house numbers, he stopped in his tracks, walls in plain pink on his left, and in grey stone on his right. He stared at the note, crease between his eyebrows, as if it would point him towards the right door if he glared hard enough. It didn't seem to be working, but a voice he recognised all too well reached his ears, so perhaps it hadn't been completely useless.

His name was called out like a question, the vague Spanish pronunciation that filled it sending a shiver down Lovino's back. Or else, it could have been the cold breezes of spring.

He looked up, eyes falling on one of the balconies.

"Are you here to see me?" Antonio smirked, his arms folded and resting on the railing above Lovino, who scowled to show that he definitely hadn't searched for him just because he missed the idiot.

"Yeah, come down here, god damn it," he ordered, the note strangled in his fist and shoved in his pocket. Antonio stood, looking a bit confused before he disappeared inside, and Lovino was left trying to hear who he was talking to and what he was saying, but the words were indistinct and... Spanish. Well.

A few seconds later, he stood by the front door with a small smile of worry, and a gesture for Lovino to come inside instead. The latter crossed his arms though, refusing the invitation.

"I'm not here to see your fucking family, all right?" He muttered, and Antonio took a few steps out onto the pavement, closing the door behind him.

"Okay..." Antonio nodded, scratching the back of his head in confusion as he approached the shirty Italian. "What is it then? Do you want to go out?"

Lovino shook his head, eyes meeting the ground as he kicked a small rock nearby, his enraged demeanour somewhat washed off, him now feeling nearly sheepish for coming there. He had the right to do so though, he reasoned with himself. Who knew when he would have found out about Antonio's departure unless Emma had spilled those news to him.

Of course it was obvious that Lovino wasn't rather happy with whatever matter had him bothered, but Antonio braved his bitterness with a hand on his arm, gently and quietly asking what was wrong. Without answer, Antonio spoke again.

"Lovino, is there something-"

"Why didn't you fucking tell me you're going back to Spain?" He snapped, wanting nothing more than to get it over with. He wriggled his arm out of Antonio's loose grip.

The Spaniard blinked, perplexed for a moment. He walked up to a set of stairs beside the houses, sitting down on one of the footsteps. His hands were folded in his lap, eyes locked on Lovino. "Who told you that?"

"Emma did."

"Emma?" Antonio seemed surprised, "You mean Emma-"

"It doesn't matter! Shit," Lovino's hands were in the air, gesturing as he spoke, suddenly as irate as before. "The point is that _you_ should have told me, but you didn't."

Antonio was silent for a moment, fiddling with his own fingers before he spoke, his voice quiet, "Isn't it obvious though? Lovino, I still have school-"

"I know that you're still in fucking school, and I knew you'd have to go back eventually, but I thought that I would be informed some time before it happened, and not fucking ignored! I didn't think you'd let me find out through some chick I've known for two god damned days!" Lovino's voice was louder than what might have been appropriate, him being just outside rows of houses. But whether he bothered an old man watching football, or woke a sleeping baby, he couldn't care.

And to his satisfaction, Antonio did look guilty.

"I'm..." the Spaniard breathed, but seemed unable to actually let his lips form an apology or an excuse. Lovino sighed heavily, and Antonio now spoke again. He didn't sound all too confident in his words, however, "Of course I was going to tell you, Lovino. I wouldn't leave you without it. But... I," he broke off, the back of his hands on his thighs, palms facing the sky as he explained, "How would I tell you, you know? It's so frustrating, because when I go back there, who knows when I'll see you again?"

Lovino's eyes narrowed, and he folded his arms over his chest, slow steps bringing him closer to Antonio, "So you were just... going to wait 'til the day before you left, or what?"

Antonio shook his head, "No. But we're still going to be here for another two weeks or so."

Lovino stopped, realising that he had been thinking Antonio's departure to be in one or two days. Perhaps he didn't have all that much reason to be angry, after all, but he was still excessively displeased with the fact that the guy was leaving at all. "Oh..." Lovino breathed.

"Mm, and I suppose two weeks isn't that much, but no, I wasn't going to wait until the last second to tell you."

Lovino stared at him for a moment, before releasing another sigh and seating himself beside the Spaniard on the stairs. The verbal silence hung between them for a while, before Lovino's words flowed again. This time calmer; quieter.

"Why did you ignore me, though? I haven't heard from you in several days."

"I've been busy helping my mother. She doesn't really get this whole thing with plane tickets and such." He let out a breath of laughter, but Lovino found himself unable to join in. "And packing, and thinking about what to say to you, and when, and where... Stomping inside the restaurant to just break the news seemed like a bad technique."

"It never stopped you before, asshole."

Antonio laughed, reaching for Lovino's hand. Maybe, just maybe, he could forgive Antonio for being so idiotic. At least he could lace their fingers together and squeeze reassuringly, because they both needed that, in a way.

"You're so stubborn, I'm not left with much of a choice but to continuously bother you when I know I can." He told, lips slipping into a pleased smile. He might have been leaving in more or less fourteen days, but they had each other for the time being.

Lovino watched the still walls before him, comfortable silence calming his mind for each second. Antonio was warm, and his hand alike, and it was perfection in the tickling wind that took advantage of how he forgot his jacket before leaving. The spring sun wasn't doing much good, he thought.

"You should come with me," Antonio suggested suddenly, madly, and Lovino looked at him with flabbergasted eyes.

"Are you stupid?" He voiced, a small chuckle of worry escaping him.

"Maybe a little," Antonio grinned, "but don't think for a second I don't know you'd want to. You're not satisfied with... this." His eyes flickered around them.

Lovino's brows knitted, "There's nothing wrong with Italy, you fucker."

"No, no, I don't mean Italy, just... Working in the restaurant. The routines. The people. You're different when you're forced to be in that kitchen."

Lovino swallowed, unable to answer to that for a while. He knew Antonio understood him, through the guy's dense mind, but he never imagined it was obvious that the hours he spent working in a place that bored and bothered him to death was misery – even though that was not quite how Antonio had put it just now.

And yes, he would like to go. But what would he do in Spain? Sit around and wait for Antonio to graduate? They were both young still, and who knew how long they'd be together. Antonio could decide to tire of him all of a sudden, and what was Spain to him then? If they fought and decided that it wasn't working, or if they found someone else, would he go back to Italy to admit what a stupid decision he had made?

As much as he wanted some change, was it worth giving up the secure life he currently had, just because he did not want to leave his boyfriend? Either way, he suddenly remembered, leaving Feliciano to take care of Roma by himself would be wrong.

"Why don't you stay here with me instead?" He heard himself suggest, almost as if somebody else made him say it. It seemed to come as a shock for both of them.

"Lovino, I-"

"Have school, I know."

"I can't just drop out..."

"I _know_." Lovino released his hand, letting his face fall in his palms instead. It all seemed so unnecessarily difficult. But the problem didn't break him apart as much as it rather bothered him to an infinite extent. Being cared for so much was nice to get used to. It was nice getting used to learning how to really care for somebody back, too. With a person he'd grown accustomed to and felt so dearly about having to leave him, surely the abstinence from being alone would pick on him like a small bird on the inside of his mind and body, beak abrasive and puncturing his sanity.

Antonio seemed mutual in that, a long sigh leaving him before he spoke, "Italy is nice, and Spain is nice too, and it really couldn't matter to me less where I'm at, despite the fact that Spain is my home and always have been," he leaned back, elbows resting on the footstep of stone above the one he already sat on, "but I feel really bad for leaving you, Lovino. I didn't think I'd grow so attached to something or someone during our short visit here." The small laughter that followed sounded strangely genuine yet contrived at the same time.

Lovino turned his head to look at him, already tired of generally everything becoming a bothering matter around him. "And I didn't think some annoying foreigner would come to bug me until I actually started to think he was okay."

Antonio laughed again, it bubbling from his lips in a much easier manner. "You know that's not how it happened!" He protested, pushing his bottom lip out childishly. Lovino raised his eyebrows, nodding.

"And then he leaves again, just as I'm..." He leaned back too, the cold stone uncomfortable against his back. He folded his arms across his chest, eyes staring at the uninteresting view in front of them. A hand, much warmer than the stairs and the wind, created goosebumps on his skin as it twirled some hair between it's tan fingers. The locks slipped out from between them, and the hand moved down to rest against his shoulder blade.

Antonio hummed affirmatively, a simple noise assuring understanding and apologising thoroughly. "I'm not that mean though, you know. I don't want to go back knowing you'll be here, angry with me."

"I won't be angry with _you_, specifically... I... I'll just," Lovino sighed, palm rubbing his face, "I'll be angry with, I don't know, everything."

"It's not like I'm not too happy about it either," Antonio's fingers kept tracing the fabric of Lovino's shirt, the feeling of haphazard circles being drawn across his skin soothing the Italian a bit, "having to fall in love with someone and then leave them." His voice was quiet, but it was audible enough for Lovino to detect his words, and find himself unable to decide whether Antonio's thoughts were just drifting as he spoke, or if he was embarrassed of saying it. The Italian didn't stop to consider this for long, however, with an aching twist in his gut and shivers down his body. How was he supposed to react to such easy words of affection acting more as a sudden declaration? Something he had still vaguely suspected, or expected to come. Yet, Lovino knew not what to say. Did he change the subject? Perhaps it wasn't a big deal. Did he assure his feelings to be mutual? And... were they really? Either way, he found himself scared, much to his own dismay.

His head snapped around, serious eyes staring at Antonio as if in expectation of an explanation, but the Spaniard's glance looked more wondering than sorry.

"You... What?" Lovino stuttered out, repositioning himself a bit where he sat. Antonio's hand fell from his back, but the latter still looked confused as to what Lovino was suddenly worked up about.

"...What?"

"You l...-" His words died out before leaving his lips, which were suddenly a lot dryer than before. He licked them, rising from the stairs as he thought he deducted realisation in Antonio's smaragdine orbs.

A sheepish smile cloaked the Spaniard's face, "Oh, we haven't... Oh... I'm sorry," he said uncertainty, Lovino descending from the stairs with slow steps, eyes narrowing a bit. "It just slipped out."

Lovino stayed silent for a mere couple of seconds. He swallowed somewhat nervously.

"So... so you don't mean it?" He asked, not knowing if he was disappointed or just confused, nor what his voice had made him sound like. Antonio's lips formed a smile, shortly, gone moments later.

"Well, I-"

"I should go home." Lovino's legs were suddenly in movement, his walk aimed at his home. Antonio was quickly parted from the footstep he'd just been sitting on.

"What? Lovino," he tried, grabbing a handful of Lovino's shirt, but the latter wriggled out with much ease.

"It's cold, and I was just... you know, I..." he trailed off, turning to look at the Spaniard as he spoke, but soon having him facing Lovino's back again, steps quickly fleeing something he didn't really need to avoid.

* * *

Staring at the plain surface of his and Feliciano's bedroom ceiling, the room poorly lit, his mind seemed to speak louder than blasting music or scolding grandparents ever had.

It _had_ been a slip of the tongue, he knew for sure, but it had also been a revelation for them both. Antonio hadn't seemed to realise what he was saying until it was what Lovino's attention pointed to, and then it was suddenly a surprise for the Spaniard too. But Lovino had a hard time believing it, nonetheless. Surely it wasn't such a big deal. Italian was still a second language for Antonio, so perhaps his words didn't hit him like they hit Lovino; forcefully in his face with a bitter-sweet taste and ambiance lingering afterwards. He would have wanted to ignore the effect it had on him, that sentence, and he would have liked to simply freak out about it later, by himself. But with them still being new to each other, and only a short way down the road, he figured it weird to feel so immensely. But emotions were just that. Emotions. It was simple, and surely, with the right occurrences and such, emotions could evolve at the speed of light. Well, supposedly. Lovino had no way of proving this.

Still though, he did not believe in love at first sight, and he felt this to be somewhat similar to that crap. However... He _did_ know Antonio, and vice versa, despite the fact that they hadn't engaged themselves in an actual romantic relationship for that long. Maybe it was enough for Antonio.

Lovino just wished he hadn't been such a coward. He covered his face with a pillow, releasing what seemed to be an infinite sigh, his lungs nearly flat as pancakes when he was finally empty of air.

"Fucking fuck." He muttered, nearly considering going back – or at least calling – to assure Antonio that everything was fine.

But was it really, though? Even if he could accept and perhaps even believe that Antonio was sincere thoroughly, it scared him. What did he feel himself? Suddenly he was as unable to label his own emotions as he'd be with someone else's. He could feel them, yes, but he could not understand them. At least so it seemed at the time being. Unrequited love had a bitter effect on everyone. Would it be unrequited?

Lovino just couldn't understand it yet, because if time wasn't the matter, something else was. Something that made him stubbornly incredulous to the Spaniard's affectionate sentences – most recent one in particular – and he had a vague feeling it had something to do with his feelings for himself. How he treated others was usually not a concern of his, but when it came to Antonio, suddenly he wanted to be a better person. Ironically, it seemed even more impossible to be so towards him than anyone else. Automatically he was denying, scowling, refusing and swearing... Even more often than usually. Save for the moments when Antonio had him completely at peace, and he managed to sink into the feeling of being calm, collected, and fascinated by the man who touched or whispered or smiled at him. The insecurity never left however, and a lingering thought told him that that was where the problem rested. In the way he took for granted but never really considered that Antonio was probably just thinking them to be momentarily. That he was trying Lovino on, taking a chance, making a mistake and would eventually regret his own decisions. That he would eventually inform the other that there wasn't ever much between them, but young hearts were easily fooled. Or something else equally stupid. What would he love Lovino for? What was there to fall for? He barely even knew how to act when Antonio was there, and more often than not he ended up doing just what he wished he could avoid. The moments that he managed to make perfect, though, he cherished.

Although Antonio had said that it "just slipped out", which had sounded to be very true, and lies wouldn't naturally "slip out" that way, would they? Perhaps if it was a lie to quickly cover up the truth, but what truth was there to conceal? Lovino hadn't asked about it. Yet he received the answer.

And he needed to think. He couldn't now. His thoughts wouldn't calm themselves, but he wanted to shut them out. Just for a while, perhaps it would all come to him if he calmly, quietly let it. And in order to think, he decided that he really needed to be by himself. Which meant not meeting with Antonio, even though he had a feeling the guy would force that upon him anyway best to his ability... Especially after the confusion that lay over them the last time they parted. Lovino knew they had things to talk about, which was exactly why he asked Feliciano to make sure Antonio didn't bother him during work.

"I need to think for a while, which I can't do when he's here!" He'd said, and Feliciano had seemed just a tad worried about his brother's relationship. There was no need for that, Lovino was sure, although he didn't know what to expect from Antonio if he was denied access to the kitchen. Perhaps Feliciano would be considerate enough to explain quickly just why Lovino needed to be alone.

But hell, he felt like such a child, using methods of the like. Not that feelings like that had ever stopped him before, though, so why would it now? He considered if perhaps _he_ was a bit childish, but internally swatted the thought away like an exasperating fly.

* * *

The following day, Lovino was surprised that he wasn't procrastinating his plans of figuring out why he had reacted the way he did, what he should do about it, what to do with Antonio, and all the other millions of questions standing in line to be pondered in his head. Neither did he let his heavy thoughts hinder his skills in work. He spilled coffee a few times, but his pride was overwhelmed from those incidents being the only ones. Something close to fear rested deeply inside his body somewhere, cold and threatening, him knowing that he'd probably have to meet Antonio whether he wanted it or not. And so far, he hadn't really come to any conclusions about himself or their relationship. Or the fact that Antonio was leaving the country.

But he'd heard somewhere that long-distance relationships didn't work, so that particular part would have to be discussed with the other half of them, and Lovino nearly found himself wondering when the Spaniard was planning on showing up. Inevitably, he would do so at some time that day.

Still Lovino was a bit surprised and annoyed when two hands collided with the counter from outside the kitchen, and a head peeked inside with a misplaced frown at the front of it. It was almost a bit scary, seeing Antonio that way, Lovino found. He'd seen him happy, and confused, and sad and disappointed and excited and God knows what. But never... This. He didn't dare to label it with a fitting adjective.

"I'm making a mental note not to let my brother act watchdog anymore. Clearly he sucks at it." Lovino remarked in a mutter, letting his concentration fall to his cooking again.

"Lovino, I think-"

"I know," he interrupted, already aware of what was to be said, "you think that we need to talk, right?"

"Yes, definitely." Antonio nodded almost frantically.

Lovino swallowed, cleared his throat, and turned towards the tan guy looking at him with what seemed to be anticipation of some sort. "Not yet. I decided that I needed to think, because things are a bit of a fucking mess right now, and you being here to "talk about it" won't really help. Not... Not yet, at least."

"But, listen-"

"I know that you'll probably get tired of being bossed around like that, but I'm serious. Really. I'm serious as fuck," he interrupted once more, and considered that perhaps it was a habit none of them would want him to take on, "so you're just going to ha-"

"_Lovino_." His tone made the Italian shut up entirely, and Lovino noticed just now that Antonio's eyes screamed of worry, and he kept shifting which leg he put weight on, and he licked his lips and was probably wondering how to say whatever was on his mind. It couldn't be that he just _really_ needed that talk, Lovino decided, and began to worry, too.

Antonio looked him up and down for a second before standing up straight to walk through the door and into the kitchen. Lovino leaned against the counter behind himself, thinking that he should really continue with the dish before the customer got upset. Or the food cold.

Opposite of him, Antonio's back was against the other counter, arms crossed and eyes locked in a staring contest with the floor.

"Apparently it wasn't enough to wake up guilty and a bit worried about you and what happened, and wondering if I wished I hadn't said what I said..." Antonio mumbled, eyes hooded by dark eyelashes, "Because then the universe decided to worsen my day with some bad news." A contrived chuckle fell from him, but his smile didn't last for long, and Lovino was really fucking curious now.

"We're leaving earlier than what was planned. Much earlier."

And the silence pierced Lovino like an arrow, straight into his gut, a sick feeling flooding his senses as the metaphorical blood left his body. He crossed his arms as well after enough seconds had passed, and Antonio's eyes met with his as he spoke again, voice thinner than he'd expected.

"When?"

Another silence, perhaps only half the length though, before Antonio shrugged his shoulders and nearly whispered, "I don't know. Sometime this week, I think."

"Oh..." It left Lovino in a sigh, heavy and thick like the lump that kept thinking it was okay to cling in his throat. He didn't really dare to speak, but he felt angry, all of a sudden. The childish, emotional rage that built up inside him seemed to fade, however, as two arms were wrapped around him, emitting body warmth.

"I told you my mom wasn't the best with plane tickets and stuff," Antonio mumbled against the crook of Lovino's neck.

"Mm, she really fucked it up, didn't she?" The latter spoke lowly, luring a quiet chuckle from Antonio, and a nod.

The Spaniard pulled away, hands relocating themselves to hold Lovino's face. He gave a small smile, an assuring one, as if to say that this was life, and it totally sucked, but they'd make it anyway because they were great like that. Still, Lovino thought, it wasn't as if Antonio was dying. He would still be breathing, laughing, living... Just not with Lovino. It was upsetting, but he also thought it'd be quite childish to get too worked up about it.

He kept his arms snaked around Antonio's waist, allowing the small of his back to be pressed against the edge of the counter by Antonio as he kissed him profoundly.


	13. Chapter 13

"So you're not angry with him still, are you?"

A tiny smile tugged at Lovino's lips, "No, not really." He said, resting his cheek against the palm of his hand with a soft sigh. "It's not entirely his fault, after all."

Emma smiled at him, bringing her glass of iced tea to her lips, swallowing the chilly liquid beneath the hot beam of the spring sun. Lovino was nearly angry with himself for not being attracted to her; beautiful under the natural light, hair pulled back from her face as usual, skin fair and eyes sweet like almonds in shape and the way she'd look at him like an older sister. Those kind eyes were nearly the same green as Antonio's, but Lovino had to admit that he got a much stronger feeling looking into the latter's. One that was almost smothering, yet somehow in a good way. He took a gulp or two from his own drink, which was surprisingly good. He'd never had iced tea before, but ordered one as well on Emma's advice. It'd always seemed like something only mother's and old ladies would settle for (or else Englishmen when their usual tea was too warm for their liking, perhaps on a warm day like this one), but Lovino couldn't complain.

"I'm sorry you had to find out through me though," she said, thin fingers with nails painted in marine-blue fiddling with the straw in her glass, "I really think he should have told you earlier!"

"So do I," Lovino raised his eyebrows. He didn't blame Emma for anything though, but was rather glad that he'd found out at all. They would have some time to figure out what they'd do once Antonio had left, "but... Oh," he sat back, a sudden memory of Antonio, worried and roused in the kitchen of the restaurant, with bad news of which Lovino had somehow managed to forget. "Damn it," he muttered, hand over his face to rub his temples with thumb and middle finger, "he's leaving in a few days."

"Oh, dear..." Emma breathed, expression sympathetic, "I thought they were staying for a few more weeks?"

"They _were_," his hand fell to his lap, "but I guess they rescheduled it... by mistake, or... whatever." He shrugged, being too tired to care, yet so incredibly torn because of the bitter misfortune they encountered. Emma reached a hand across the small, wooden table, arm wrinkling the small tablecloth as she grasped Lovino's hand, which had been poking absent-mindedly at the foot of his glass. He glanced up through his lashes, offered an empathetic smile from the sweet girl opposite him. His eyes fell to where her soft hand held his own, realising the difference in their skin tones. She looked nearly a bit light-yellow in contrast to his colours.

And Lovino was as deep in his own thoughts as ever as the days passed, suddenly realising that he should keep in touch with Antonio best to his ability before the latter departed. It wasn't all that easy, however, when he still wasn't answering his phone. Lovino had stopped trying. Whatever stupid reason Antonio might have had (no battery, no connection; the possibilities were a few) it annoyed him immensely, and he wouldn't hesitate to go over there again, had it not been for the fact that he already had a steady job and a grandfather who was strict and unbeknownst to Lovino's dilemma. He thought a lot about telling Roma that it seemed both of his grandsons had a soft spot for foreign males, and that it must have been a genetic thing. He wasn't sure if the man would laugh at that or react negatively though. Lovino had heard about parents (or any other kind of guardians) lashing out upon finding out that their young one wasn't straight. He couldn't believe Roma would be one to see any kind of love as sick, however. He was a bit like Feliciano in that aspect, Lovino thought. Positively oblivious when it came to romance.

When weekend finally arrived, Lovino made plans to go visit Antonio. Perhaps actually come inside and greet his family or something, if they had the time. He wasn't quite as enraged this time, however, so he didn't see why not. Although, a spoke was put in his wheel that morning as he realised he needed to go to the market place to buy some groceries. He hadn't been there since he met Emma for the first time, and since then they'd had some time to run out of a handful of necessities. He grumbled to himself while scribbling whatever they needed down on a note, ignoring to ask Feliciano if he wanted to come – as the latter was still sound asleep – and headed out with a small basket.

It wasn't as warm as it had been these last few days, and he felt proud for grabbing a jacket on the way out, not wanting to foolishly do the same mistake twice. The sun still shone on with mighty rays, turning blond hair into gold to the eye, stone to diamonds. If anything he should have brought a pair of sunglasses.

Past the many stalls and noisy people he spotted a familiar mop of light hair, a green ribbon on top of the head; and a smile tugged at his lips as he darted through the small crowd of customers, interrupting her unsuccessful conversation with a salesman who seemed to be speaking Italian only.

"Hi," he breathed, a bit out of breath as he reached her, and her bothered orbs flickered up to his face, face losing its troubled expression at the sight of her friend. The salesman rolled his eyes as Emma greeted Lovino back, probably tired of foreigners coming there to buy things without understanding his words.

"How's it, uh... going?" Lovino asked, looking from Emma to the salesman and back again, and she sighed.

"He seems to be scolding me for something, and won't let me leave, but I can't figure out what he's saying," she said, voice a bit quieter. The man behind the stall crossed his arms, half-glaring at them as if he understood she was talking about him.

Lovino sniggered, "So my Italian lessons didn't help, huh?" He asked jokingly, before shooting the man behind the stall a glare in return, just for good measure, "_C'è un problema?_"

The man looked a bit surprised, as well as relieved there was finally someone who spoke his language. He leaned forward, palms flat against the surface of the stall, nodding his head towards Emma as he spoke.

"_Ha pagato troppo poco!_" He said, his tone desperate, "_La ragazza non capisce._"

"Oh, tsk," he turned back to Emma, who looked curious, "he says you didn't pay him enough."

"What? I didn't... Oh!" Sheepish realisation etched to her face, she quickly rummaged through her small handbag before fishing out the missing amount of money and handing it to the man, whose eyes were still narrowed as if she'd been caught trying to steal from her, which, according to him, perhaps was the case. "I must have confused the bills, I'm sorry!" She apologised, but he looked as confused as ever. With a roll of his eyes, Lovino pulled her by the arm away from the sea of people, a sigh leaving his lips.

"There sure are a lot of people today, aren't there?" She spoke, glancing over her shoulder. Lovino dropped his soft grip, although Emma was quick to snake their arms together, locked like they were two girlfriends gossiping instead. He ignored the silly image of them discussing boys far too old for them, or other girls detested, answering her instead.

"It usually is on weekends."

"Mm," she hummed, turning back to walk beside him in the sun, further away from the market place. "Were you done shopping? We could go do something, if you're free." She smiled, eyes closed as a chilly breeze blew their way. She didn't seem much affected though. Perhaps she was used to it being a bit colder, coming from a much more northern country and all, Lovino thought.

"I was actually planning to go over to Antonio's as soon as I was done here. That dumbass still isn't answering when I try to call," he muttered, and Emma's slow pace came to a sudden stop, "do you know if there's something wrong with their phone? You seem to be pretty close with his family and I... Why are you looking at me like that?"

Her expression was drenched with realisation for the second time that day, eyes sympathetic as they lingered on Lovino without her uttering a word for too many seconds. He began to worry. "Oh, sweetie..." She was so quiet he wasn't sure if she even knew she'd let those words slip from her tongue, but she shook her head slowly and continued, "Lovino, dear, they left just this morning."

And he wasn't sure what to feel, or what that feeling of being stabbed in his gut really was (because he couldn't see any objects forced through the skin of his abdomen anywhere,) but after a lifetime of practicing his bad temper, his mood was easily conveyed into anger without him even trying.

"What? This... this morning? Why didn't he..." Lovino trailed off. Confusion, betrayal, it hit with a bitter familiarity, and his brows knit together. Emma's lips were parted, as if she wanted to say something but couldn't quite think of what she was supposed to say. What Lovino wanted to hear. Anything that would help. She figured, however, that there probably wasn't much she could do. She wasn't given much time to try, either, Lovino suddenly leaving her arm empty as he scattered away with an apologising look on his face. "I gotta... uh, I..." He stuttered, mind elsewhere as he ran a hand through his hair and half-ran from the market place.

"Oh," she breathed, unsure of what to say. As Lovino disappeared out of sight, she sighed. "Antonio, you stupid, _stupid_..." her words faded, and she shook her head, unable to understand these fools who seemed so close and so far away at the same time.

* * *

Lovino slammed the door shut behind him as he entered through the back of the restaurant, and Feliciano's head peeked out from the kitchen.

"Oh! Lovino, we're out of flour!" He said, not even greeting his brother properly. Lovino did not stop to nag about that, however, but stomped into the kitchen without taking his shoes off, forcefully slung the basket up on the counter and started to take out the groceries to put them in their respective places, him fuming with emotion and thoughts he didn't know what to do with. And... what did he do now? If they'd left just a few hours ago or so, they probably couldn't have gotten too far, so calling would be useless. But Lovino couldn't sit and wait for the Spaniard to get home and be reachable again, could he? He almost felt himself tearing up at the peaking frustration.

"Ah, good, you bought cinnamon too," Feliciano smiled, hopping up on the counter to watch as his brother moved around in the room. His eyes narrowed a bit, curious and confused by what seemed to be a very bothered expression on his brother's face. "Lovino?"

The latter did not answer, he muttered to himself as he placed a few oranges and apples in a bowl, which Feliciano quickly reached into, grabbing an orange for himself.

"You seem angry, did something happen at the market place?" Feliciano asked, and Lovino finally stopped in his tracks, no groceries left to sort. A heavy sigh left him, and he rubbed his forehead with his hand.

"Feli, have you heard anything from Antonio?" He asked, despite knowing that they didn't really talk that much save for the times Antonio would come over.

"Oh, right!" Feliciano's sudden words of remembrance sent a jolt through Lovino, and he stared at his brother as he jumped down from the counter, leaving the orange with only half of the peel left as he hurried out of the kitchen, Lovino waiting with a heart beating viciously in his chest until the younger returned with a small envelope.

"What's..." Lovino began.

"He came in just after I'd woken up! I sure hope he didn't mind talking to me while I was still in my pyjamas," Feliciano laughed shortly, handing Lovino the envelope as he continued dismantling his fruit.

Lovino was quiet for a moment, staring at the white paper in his hand, and he could hear his own pulse in his ears. "He left me a letter?" He asked incredulously. What an odd thing to do, really. Had he known Lovino wouldn't be home?

Feliciano nodded, chewing at an orange wedge.

"Why the fuck..." Lovino spoke quietly, but didn't finish his sentence before a new fell from his lips, "Feliciano, did he tell you... I mean, do you know where he is now?" He doubted that Antonio had told him he was leaving, because surely Feliciano wouldn't seem as frivolous as usual if so. He liked the Spaniard, too. They were friends, and Feliciano was quite dramatic sometimes.

The latter furrowed his eyebrows, "What do you mean? He's... home, I suppose. Isn't he?"

Lovino swallowed, eyes cast down on the envelope he wanted to throw away without opening, as well as was anticipating to read as soon as possible. His stomach ached a little. "He's on his way," he smiled bitterly, "with... home being Spain. University." His brother looked a bit confused, "He's going _home_, Feliciano."

"What?" He sounded nearly hurt at the words, and Lovino almost wanted him to flip out and cry. Scream. Claw at his hair and his clothes, just because Lovino couldn't manage to do so himself, even if it was exactly what he felt like doing. Going crazy with emotions too big to fathom. He needed to yell, swear, throw things, because he felt like he had been spat in the face by the world itself, and he still hadn't reacted the way he wanted and had to. Why could he not do anything else but to swallow and swallow without that lump in his throat dissolving? Why was the wrenching pain in his gut the only thing he felt? Feliciano never hid his emotions. Someone had to display how dismayed and run-over Lovino felt, someone had to vocalise that this was not okay. But Feliciano looked as if he wanted to enfold his arms around his brother; as if this did not affect him any more but give him the duty of providing his older brother with comfort. Lovino never wanted anyone's sympathy, however. He just wanted things to be right. This was not right.

Lovino nodded, and Feliciano put the orange down on the counter. "Today?"

A bitter huff of laughter left Lovino, "You knew he would have to return sooner or later."

"Yes, but... I thought you said-"

"Change of plans." He stated flatly, suddenly walking out of the kitchen as if his feet had a mind of their own, and he knew he needed to read that letter. Feliciano followed him as he sat down by one of the tables in the dining hall, tearing the envelope to reveal the message inside, accidentally ripping part of the corner off. He swore under his breath, and Feliciano sat down beside him quietly. His faced did not conceal the obvious fact that he had a million questions to ask, but he said nothing, for once. Lovino was not sure if he was thankful or just surprised.

He slowly pulled the letter from its envelope, oddly nervous as he recognised Antonio's handwriting. Feliciano leaned slightly over the table, trying to get a look himself, but Lovino sat back with the sheet of paper close to him, and his brother gave him a sour look. Lovino noticed his own hands shaking, and pulled his eyebrows close together in annoyance of his own unnecessary and involuntary way of reacting. He read the text slowly, twice, internally laughing at the way Antonio's skill in spelling seemed to be a lot worse than his skill in speech, and considered writing a letter of his own just to inform the guy of his need of more Italian lessons.

"_Dear Lovino,_

_I'm so, so sorry to be leaving you now, but I don't really have much of a choice. School is not forever though, and I promise I will come back to you! Please don't give up on me.  
Do you remember that one time I came with you to the market place and you told me to go home again because you had a hard time concentrating on what to buy when someone was bothering you? Well, you also told me to remember that Saturday mornings was the one time I wasn't allowed to be around (although you do complain a lot when I come to the restaurant as well.) You seemed a bit absent-minded so I don't know if you're aware of telling me this, but you did, and that's how I was sure you wouldn't be home when I came over today. So I wrote this instead. Unfortunately we were leaving early and I wouldn't have the time to wait for you to come home again. I wish I did though, cause leaving without a proper goodbye and a kiss makes me very sad. And even though you would not say so yourself, I know you'll be sad too.  
There are ways to keep in touch, of course, and I think I'll write more letters like this. It's very romantic! Don't you think so?  
It's been very stressful lately, which is why I've been so bad at informing you of... everything. Also I lost my phone. My mother was very angry with me for that and I have a feeling you are too. I'm sorry! Please don't hate me. I really like you. I told you I loved you, and you got kind of weird after that, but I don't think I regret saying it. I haven't thought about it before, but I really think I did fall in love with you, Lovino. You're a very unique and interesting person and I love being with you. I'd hate myself if I didn't get to meet you again, and maybe you don't want to wait for me, but I'm going to do my best to get back to you again._

_Love, Antonio_"

And Lovino suddenly felt like the right emotions hit him. Forcefully, like a kick to his stomach, and he felt like he had the right to be angry about Antonio's departure. The right to be sad, and to scream or cry if he wanted to, to overreact and feel sorry for himself, to miss the Spanish jackass more than he'd ever missed anyone before, despite the fact that it was not long ago at all since he left. The possibly huge amount of time Lovino would have to wait for him was agonising, however, and he slammed the paper down onto the table, causing Feliciano to wince where he sat. Lovino did not fail to notice how quickly he grasped the paper, hurrying to read and find whatever might have triggered Lovino's sudden wave of feelings. He felt more sad than angry, but was not sure how to show the twisting pain in any other way than through his usual fits of rage.

"God _fucking_ damn it!" He exclaimed, standing up and kicking his chair, sending it sliding across the floor a few feet before nearly falling over, but it seemed to have the balance of a ballerina, and Lovino felt even more worked up. He would not have wanted to say goodbye properly. He would not have wanted a last kiss for who knew how long. He just wanted Antonio to still be there, a few blocks away, still present in Lovino's country and life. And he wanted to kick furniture over and yell at somebody for not getting to keep the things that made him happy.

A heavy sigh left him, and he felt like he didn't have any air at all left inside him. "Lovino..." His brother spoke quietly, wondering, dropping the letter to rest on the table again. A restrained noise left Lovino's throat, and he blinked a few times, trying to prevent his eyes from watering any more than they already did. He heard footsteps descend down the stairs, and Roma's voice calling out.

"Boys?" He got closer, "What's going on?"

But Lovino was definitely not up for talking. He was not in the mood for telling Roma how he'd really felt about Antonio, what they had been doing together, where the Spaniard was now, and how he felt like he could go to sleep and not wake up until Antonio came back again. It was childish, but surely understandable... Either way Lovino just wanted to be by himself for a moment, until the sudden rush of emotion peaked and escalated, him able to open his mouth and form words without his voice breaking or his tears spilling.

He passed Roma on his way out, receiving a confused stare but no words. And Lovino wasn't sure where he was going, but he wasn't questioned. He just needed to think. To not be bothered, and to register what happened in his life, because suddenly it seemed as if he was unable to keep up. It rushed past him and he was never prepared. All of a sudden he had a friend, and more than that, and he settled for feelings he hadn't experienced before, and a happiness he never knew he lacked, but soon it was swept away from under his feet. Perhaps to return in time, but who wanted to wait? He certainly didn't.

* * *

Lovino did not answer the letter. For days it lay hidden in the top drawer of his nightstand, its presence always on Lovino's mind, always making him contemplate whether it was an obligation of his to answer it. He wouldn't say so, really, since he never made any kind of promise to Antonio. But perhaps it was an unspoken rule? It would probably be rude of him to ignore the apology and promise of staying in touch, but Lovino's dilemma came to an end as he realised he didn't have the Spaniard's address anyway. Surely it wouldn't be too hard to come across though, if he needed it, and he suspected Emma might be the one to ask if so. But she seemed to have other things to ask and tell, and she was quick to nearly order Lovino that they were to meet as soon as possible. She was worried, that was obvious, but Lovino really did not feel like leading any melancholy conversations with her... or anybody else, for that matter. She came over in the middle of the week, after the restaurant was closed and Feliciano and Roma were going to bed. Apologising for not picking a better time, as she had been busy (with what, Lovino had no idea, and he did not ask, either) but had to see him as quickly as possible. She cared for him, Emma explained, and wanted to make sure he wasn't too upset.

Lovino would have preferred having her there on a weekend, considering how his body seemed to have decided for itself that they needed wine. His mind was incredulous though. It was a Wednesday, after all. Emma looked a bit surprised as she entered through the back and found Lovino in the kitchen trying to choose between two sorts he had not tried before, one bottle in each hand, wrinkle in between his brows.

"We're drinking?" She asked, but he didn't turn. "Lovino? I just wanted to talk, dear."

"I know," he said, eyeing the labels with narrowed eyes, "I'm just... thirsty."

She removed her jacket, hanging it on a coat rack by the entrance. She answered with a quiet "Oh," unsure if it was normal of him to drink wine so casually. She'd heard about some European countries doing that, but it still struck her as a bit odd. Lovino was sort of young still, after all.

He turned his head to flash her a polite smile, forced but kind. "So you don't want any?" He asked, putting one of the bottles back as he settled for Sangiovese, which Roma always enjoyed, and Roma had tried the most.

"I suppose one glass wouldn't hurt," she shrugged, and Lovino opened a cabin to grab two wine-glasses skilfully in between his fingers. He carried them swiftly to a table in the dining hall, the same one they'd been sitting by during their very brief Italian lesson not so long ago. Lovino doubted they'd end up making waffles with Feliciano this time though, as he glanced at the clock and noted that they should probably not fall into hour-long conversations, since it was already pretty late, considering it being a normal weekday that followed.

He placed the glasses on the table, and Emma saw down with a soft sigh, barely audible, as Lovino opened the bottle and poured what might have been a bit too much wine in each glass.

"I don't drink wine very often," Emma said, lifting her glass with delicate fingers and swirling the liquid around a bit, "to be honest I think I prefer beer."

Lovino scoffed, shaking his head as he sat down. "I thought you had better taste than that," he smiled, and Emma let out a short laugh.

"I never said I dislike wine, though," she remarked with a finger pointed at him, "because I certainly don't. I suppose I'm just a bit more familiar with beer."

Lovino hummed affirmatively, taking a sip from his beverage, "I guess so."

Emma was quiet for a while, fingers gracing the glass, but lips never touching it. Her eyes were cast low before she took a breath, held it for a second or two, and looked up at Lovino as she spoke. "So how are you?"

He leaned his cheek against his palm, looking at her as if almost a bit surprised at the question he'd been pretty much waiting for. "I'm... fine." He lied. Or at least he thought he did. Were he to be honest, he wasn't quite sure if he was okay or not.

"Really?" She asked carefully, "You must be kind of down, hm?" Lovino didn't answer, orbs flickering down as he took another sip, "Or if not, I guess I shouldn't bother you about it. I don't want to _make_ you sad." Emma said, soft laughter in her voice.

"No, I'm..." Lovino began, shrugging a shoulder, "I, uh..." his words kept dying out, and the wine did not seem to be helping the sudden dryness in his mouth, "I wasn't prepared, is all."

She pulled her eyebrows close together, absently scratching a bit of her blue nail-polish off of her thumb nail. Lovino could feel her eyes fixed on him for a while before she spoke again, quietly, "I know you're sad, Lovino. It's obvious and it's completely understandable, but something tells me you haven't talked to anyone about it yet, have you?"

He shook his head slowly, a bit uncomfortable being so emotionally revealed all of a sudden. So scanned under her stare. Almost _forced_ to vocalise what he really felt, even if it was for his best.

"And can you guess what I think you should do?"

He glanced up at her, meeting with a smiling face, kind and calm. "Talk about it?"

"Esattamanti," she said hesitantly, and Lovino couldn't help but to let out a huff of laughter.

"_Esattamente_," he corrected. "But I don't think I need to talk about anything. It's no big deal."

"Lovino..."

"No, really. I'm glad you want to help, though I can't see why you're so desperate about it," he shrugged, looking and feeling as if he was already tired of it all, "it's not that dramatic. He's just... I'll get over it. I'll... forget him. We only knew each other for a couple of weeks anyway."

Emma was quiet, watching as he let the rest of his wine wash down his throat, the alcohol burning just a little bit despite him being used to the drink. She leaned back in her chair, tucking a strand of hair from her cheek. "Isn't that enough though?"

He dragged the foot of the glass along the table's surface for a few seconds before sitting back as well, crossing his arms. "What do you mean?"

"We're friends after only a few days, aren't we? Listen, I know Antonio, and he's pretty good at getting to know people and having them liking him in a very short matter of time, so a few weeks isn't as little as you make it sound like, Lovino."

Despite himself, Lovino poured some more wine into his glass, a light frown on his face. What was it she wanted him to admit? That such a short – apparently only so according to him – period of time was enough for him to get so attached, and now he felt completely empty without Antonio? That he _did_ need a shoulder to cry on, at least now at the beginning, when it was the hardest? He didn't care at all. He could and he would forget Antonio, because he did not want to wait an eternity for someone who wasn't much more than a fling anyway. If Antonio found it so easy, getting people to like him, then surely it wouldn't be a challenge to find a replacement for Lovino. The thought made the Italian strangely uncomfortable, and he clenched his jaw as he let the glass hit the table with a _clink_ after another sip. "I just feel so alone all of a sudden," he heard himself say, and didn't stop even as he felt his face heat from the sincere words falling from his lips, "and I don't understand why, because it's only been a few days. I've been without him longer than this, but those times..." he paused, eyes cast on the floor beside their table, him unable to see Emma's reaction to his sentences, "Those times I always knew that he was coming back, somehow. And he said... He left me a letter, he said he promised to come back, but I'm still scared."

She was quiet for far too long, and her voice was too quiet, and Lovino knew he'd opened up just the way she'd wanted him to. "Scared?"

And he regretted being so honest, even though he'd known right from the start that this girl was trustworthy. He saw that in her. In the way she felt like an older sister somehow, the way she was so unusually nice to him. Why was she so nice, and why was he so scared all the time? So scared to open up, to let someone see him, or have the chance to hurt him. Why was he such a coward? And why were there still people who seemed to not notice that at all? At least not care about it, because Emma never looked at him like he was a coward, or like he was weak. She smiled and she spoke as if he was a great human being. That scared him a bit, too, because nobody had ever done that except for Antonio, and he'd been in love with him...

"Why are you so kind?" He blurted out, and Emma looked a bit shocked at the sudden question. "Do you... you don't..."

She looked confused, and waited for him to find the words he needed, but that did not seem as if it was going to happen any time soon. "What do you mean, dear?" A brief, somewhat nervous laughter left her, and Lovino knew he wasn't making sense, and that he should have stopped talking, but he really hadn't talked to anybody, and suddenly there were questions and statements and accusations in his head that wanted to get out now as he'd somehow started to open up.

"That! I mean that! You call me dear, and you act so... so..." He gestured with his hands, and his eyes seemed unsure whether to look at Emma or to avoid her confused expression, "So nice! I don't know... Nobody ever talks to me so easily, as if they actually like me, but you keep smiling every time we meet, and you seem like you care so much, you..."

She looked almost amused now, and shook her head slowly, incredulously. "I _do_ care, you-"

"Except Antonio. It's you, and it's Antonio, and he was... _somehow_... in love with me, and you... Well, no, you can't be. But are..." His eyes were huge as he looked at her nervously, deducting that he was making a fool out of himself, and that he would blame it on the wine even if he hadn't had enough of it to be drunk yet, "You're not... are you?"

She stared back for a few seconds, before the corner of her red-painted lips twitched upwards, and laughter slipped from her as she stood up, shaking her head. "No, Lovino, I am not in love with you." She said firmly, making it sound like an almost ridiculous thing to imagine. He supposed he should have felt insulted, but really, he was too busy being relieved by her assuring words, and confused with his own behaviour. She walked over to him, crouched beside him and took his hand, making him feel like a little kid in need of comfort. Sometimes he nearly thought that he was one, too.

"Lovino, I do care, and I do like you," Lovino glared at his glass for no real reason at all, and Emma was squeezing his fingers in a way so different from how Antonio sometimes did, "you're my friend." She said, and he realised that that was all it was, and it was perfect that way, but he felt so ridiculous and pathetic for not recognising friendship when he had it. When he was used to girls being not much else but a target for his young, flirtatious needs, and when he really hadn't ever had any real friends except for his own family; Emma was something new. He couldn't understand why or how, but she actually wanted to be his friend. It had been the same with Antonio of course, and Lovino wasn't sure yet if he'd somehow accepted that despite his disbelief and confusion. Some people wanted to be in his life, why was that?

"Thank you." He muttered, and a content hum left Emma as she stood up.

"No problem, dear. I just needed to make sure you weren't too... broken." She clasped her hands behind her back. "You seem to be in more need of comfort than I thought though. For various reasons."

Lovino stood as well, putting the cork back in the bottle. "Seems so."

Emma took the glasses, carrying them into the kitchen, followed by Lovino with the bottle in between his hands. They were quiet, her shoes clicking against the floor and the glasses twinkling in the dim light as she put them in the sink, turned around and smiled as amiably as ever at Lovino.

"You're going to make it through though, I'm certain of that," Emma said, taking the bottle from his hands and putting them on the counter, "I haven't seen you and Antonio together yet, but you're really something, you two."

Lovino furrowed his brows, the apples of his cheeks reddening slightly.

"It's only been a few weeks, which may be too little in your eyes, but the way you speak of each other-"

"He's spoken of me? When?" Lovino cut her off, not even reminding himself to apologise for his terrible manners.

Emma smirked. "A few times when he'd just gotten to know you, I think. He never really gave me a name though, so I didn't know it was you." Lovino nodded slowly, gaze falling to the floor and hand scratching his cheek absently. "The guy is an idiot, he's always been, but don't give up on him. I think you'd be good for each other."

Lovino scoffed nervously, hand running through his hair. "What makes you so sure?"

With a sly smile, she walked out of the kitchen, snatching her jacket from the coat rack on her way out. "Call it a girl's intuition."

* * *

**_Italian translation:_**

_C'è un problema? - Is there a problem?  
Ha pagato troppo poco! - She paid too little! (Google translates this to 'he' though, so I'm a bit confused if this is correct or not. Though, honestly, I don't know anything about Italian, so there's a possibility all of these are incorrect. If you see any mistakes, please inform me so I can change them.)  
__La ragazza non capisce - The girl does not understand  
__Esattamente - Exactly_  



	14. Chapter 14

"I wrote him twice," Antonio said, voice muffled as his face hid in between his arms, him lying miserably against one of the tables in the school library. "Maybe he didn't get them? Although I did leave the first one to Feliciano, but maybe he forgot..." He peeked up at his friend sitting opposite him looking as if he might just pass away any second, being forced to study like this. His cheek was red from leaning against his hand, and a wrinkle seemed permanent between his brows.

"You dissed him," the light-haired man remarked, voice a bit too loud and quickly hushed by the librarian, which he blatantly ignored, "of course he's pissed." Hushed again, and Gilbert shot an exasperated glance towards the man behind the desk at the other end of the room, posture annoyingly perfect and a warning stare fixed at the young man.

"I didn't diss him, Gil... I just... Well, I didn't have much of a choice, did I?" Antonio gave him a pleading look, begging for some sympathy and advice. Gilbert just rolled his eyes at his friend, whose usually beaming demeanour had been missing ever since he came back, looking like a kid forced to go to the dentist. Antonio continued mumbling, his eyes travelling out over the wide library, "And he knows that, but I'm pretty sure he's angry anyway."

Gilbert scrunched his nose up. Despite how much he cared for his friend, sometimes he had to admit the Spaniard seemed to lack a few brain cells. "And you don't see why? Are you kidding me?"

"Of course I see why," He protested, "he's got a real temper, so I guess it was kind of inevitable for him to be upset with me..." Antonio let his head fall into the space between his arms again, letting out a quiet moan to emphasis his misery. "I feel like such an asshole." He wailed, Gilbert reaching his arm across the table to pat his friend's shoulder a bit stiffly.

Though Antonio was aware that his friend would rather not hear about these problems, he was infinitely thankful that Gilbert was still there across the table, talking too loudly and being generally unhelpful. This was often how it worked for them, it seemed. Because Gilbert could always look into the core of Antonio's troubles, deducting that the base of it all was the Spaniard's own stupidity. Antonio rarely agreed, but still came to Gilbert when he needed advice. They were, despite everything, best friends, which was something Antonio's family had never quite understood, though his mother had a soft spot for her son's friend. Gilbert could be a real gentleman if he wanted to.

Perhaps it was because of how well they actually got along, or how much fun they brought into each other's lives, or perchance just because of the fact that they'd practically grown up together, but it was a mutual knowing that they never wanted to part. Antonio often wished Francis would be with them, too, to complete their little group, but he'd said no to the offer of going to university with them, and made a life for himself until they'd meet again. It'd been a long time since their last encounter, but every now and then they'd make sure to meet up somehow. And besides that, he called a lot. If only it'd be that simple with Lovino, Antonio thought, but the boy was a lot more difficult than Francis, it seemed.

* * *

Lovino woke up with his facial features forming a scowl, which had seemed to become some sort of morning ritual for him. He yawned, rubbed his eye with a fist, and glanced to the side, clock on his bed-side table nagging at him to get up by simply displaying the time, and Antonio's letters in a neat pile beside, just as irritating as the clock. Lovino hated how he would often both fear and hope that the currently unimpressive height of his letter-pile would increase, as Antonio seemed set on writing even though Lovino had yet to answer any of them. It was nice in a way, he supposed, because at least he knew what was going on with the guy. He knew that – as far as Antonio told – he hadn't simply gone home, adapted, and drifted onwards with his life before the visit to Italy and Lovino's heart (as much as the latter despised putting it that way), but more so spent his days complementing his studying with mourning as if Lovino was dead. Which was perhaps somewhat of an exaggeration, but still.

This of course made it harder for him to forget his problems, which he had intended to do. As much as Lovino wanted to hold on to the promise Antonio made of returning, or the wish of going to Spain, he had to be realistic. He'd decided that wasting his time on someone he only spent a few weeks with (which ___was _a short time, no matter what Emma said!) when he had a job that took up most of his hours, and a grandfather whose faltering health still wasn't enough to make the man go see a doctor, would be nonsense.

Not a lot of time had passed, but Feliciano was already being wary with him. Already acting as if Lovino would blow up any second, and already sending him sad glances as if apologising for something he had not done. Lovino got sick of it, but did not say anything. He would like to yell at his brother because he knew he was good at that, but he did not want to bring this whole ordeal up in a conversation. Surely, though, Feliciano must have had a thing or two to say. That assumption had Lovino made based upon how clearly it was written all over his sibling's face, the way he wanted to ask Lovino how he really felt, if he could help, assure him that there were people to talk to if he needed, and so on.

Feliciano did not know how he felt though, and Lovino did not think it okay of him to try and sympathise with him. Especially not as he was currently experiencing what seemed like the complete opposite of Lovino's failed attempt of a love-life: fortune, romantically speaking. Feliciano was meeting up with Ludwig more and more frequently, and Lovino needn't ask to know that his brother had fallen in love. And it looked rather mutual, too. Though Ludwig was never really as open or seemingly comfortable with it, Feliciano seemed pleased, and Lovino _wanted _to be happy for them, but it was hard when he still couldn't bring himself to like the German boyfriend his brother kept bringing home for dinner, or when Lovino was sour from his own bad luck.

Roma had not met Ludwig yet, him staying in his room every time the guy came over. Whether he was embarrassed, showing himself in his current state (despite him not looking all too sick on the outside, rather it being the coughing giving him away,) or just didn't have the energy to be social, Lovino did not know. It wasn't much of a matter to him though, but Feliciano seemed a bit disappointed every time he found he would not get to introduce two of the most important people in his life to each other – as he'd put it himself once.

It could have been worse though, Lovino reminded himself. He was not really jealous of Feliciano more so than he was simply reminded of what he did not have anymore, every time he saw his brother having it instead. Or hearing about it. Feliciano was still himself after all, speaking of Ludwig all the time. His most favoured subject seemed to be that of how good Ludwig and Kiku got along, and how happy Feliciano was that the three of them could hang out as much as they did (Lovino sometimes sensed that his brother would want to spill more words of the moments he spent alone with Ludwig, but did not do so as he knew it would embarrass both Ludwig and Lovino in ways that'd get him yelled at.) And at times when Feliciano talked of this, Lovino was glad he did not have to be bitter about his lack of friends as well as his lack of Antonio, since Emma was always there, trying to keep his mood up, getting to know him more. She was an excellent friend, he'd found, and he was very thankful. He really hoped she knew this, because sometimes Lovino felt like saying it, but always refrained from doing so.

"He passed out again," Feliciano sighed, back turned towards his brother as he wetted a small cloth in the sink. Lovino did not see his face, but could still hear the lump in his brother's throat, and sense the tears of worry in his eyes.

Lovino said nothing, taking off his shoes and his jacket in the hallway as he watched his brother wrench the cloth until his knuckled went white.

"Actually, he's gone unconscious several times today, but only for a few seconds each. This one has lasted for about ten minutes or so, though..." Feliciano mumbled shakily. Lovino swallowed, which was hard with the distinct lump in his throat. He then walked up to his brother, taking the wet cloth from his fingers wrinkled from the water. He must have been standing by the sink for quite a while, Lovino realised.

"Is he in his bedroom?" He asked, glancing up at Feliciano, whose eyes were shimmering with droplets, locked with the still running tap, and he nodded at Lovino's question, "Get some rest, Feli." The latter advised, wrenching the cloth a last time before heading for the stairs.

The bedroom door was slightly ajar, and Lovino let it creak open slowly as his elbow nudged it carefully. "Grandpa?" He whispered into the room, but got no answer. Spotting Roma on the bed, he cleared his throat and knit his eyebrows together. It was hard seeing him so vulnerable, so sick. The man usually seemed to have an invisible iron shield of an immune system and knocked out colds and fevers as if _he_ was the virus causing _them_ trouble, and not the other way around. Either this must have been one hell of a cold, Lovino thought, or the alarming worries in the back of all their heads weren't just possibilities, but facts, and something serious had gotten to their grandfather. Lovino hoped not, and wished for it to go away as he placed the cloth on Roma's forehead, because the man refused to see a doctor, and he wasn't getting better. The odds seemed to be against them. Damn those odds. Damn illnesses. Lovino nearly felt sick himself, thinking about all this.

"I didn't think you were so stupid," he muttered, despite being sure Roma heard none of it. The man's face looked bothered, and his skin was glistening with sweat. Perhaps he was just having a bad dream. But then again, Lovino was fairly sure you did not dream when passed out.

"Why won't you see a doctor, huh?" He continued, his voice low, sad but not judging, "too prideful, are we? And you're one to tell me I shouldn't have so much pride. Hypocrite." He crossed his arms, vivid memories of similar words voiced by Roma. Precisely that, to not be so prideful, however it was often followed by how he should also "loosen up" and "have fun" or something, which wasn't really the same situation as they were in now.

"Scared," the words seemed to leave his lips by themselves, his own voice a realisation to his mind, "You're scared." He stated again, nodding his head once, somehow feeling as if he'd hit the nail on the head even though his grandfather hadn't moved or changed his expression. Lovino just knew he was correct anyway. "Not by the doctor, of course, 'cause you're brave, right?" He stood from the small stool beside the bed, crossing the room to look out the window before his eyes fell on Roma again, "scared of what, then? The truth?"

He wasn't sure why he was talking to himself – which he really was, since no one else was listening – but he could not stop now as he headed down the right trail. He'd wondered for a long time why their grandfather was acting so childishly, like some teenage rebel trying to show his parents that he was capable of saying no and being difficult. Because he knew well enough already that Roma could be difficult, and that he had a will of stone and what not. That was never the reason to him brushing the problem off his shoulders, however, which had secretly been a known fact for a while now. He was afraid.

"Well that's really so God damn brave of you, ignoring the truth as if it will go away when not acknowledged. What a hero you are. Can't you handle one fucking problem? Can't you take it like a man?" He sat down on the windowsill, accusatory stare fixed at the man lying as if asleep in the bed's embrace, room poorly lit and warm.

"They could help you, for fuck's sake, but you're such a coward that you'd rather pretend everything's fine even though it's making the problem bigger. This affects us too, you know. I don't need any more problems, I don't need you to get worse and die just because your fear is larger than your common sense!"

"Don't say that, Lovino... Don't say that he is going to die," Lovino's racing pulse stopped as he looked up at his brother, standing by the door with puffy eyes and small words falling from his lips. Nothing felt more wrong than seeing Feliciano that way, because even though Lovino had known him his entire life and seen most any emotion beam from him, the uncontrollable distress from fearing his grandfather's death was the one that fitted him the least. He did not look like himself, and the crippling ache and exhaustion from this whole ordeal seemed to be sucking his spirit out of him. They were all down, especially so some days when Roma's health was extra bad, but Lovino thought it would have been better if Feliciano had been able to keep his usual optimism up, even if fake, and even if annoying, because at least that was normal.

Lovino was almost guilty for wishing for change for so long. Wanting normal to go away and wanting routines to die. Craving experiences that made him feel something. Something else than apathy and boredom, exasperation from nothing at all and bitterness through a generally good life. But he never wanted _this_. This was not what he'd wanted any of them to feel, and though he knew things could get worse he felt as if this was rock bottom. The look on his brother's face told him so, that they were heading towards one of the worst things that could possibly happen. And they were tired of it already, and Lovino couldn't help but to blame himself. He'd scolded his grandfather but the words were empty of anger and he wanted to go to sleep for a year and wake up and have everything back to normal again because it would be better than this. And in the middle of it all, he missed Antonio, because the guy had been different in a positive way, and he'd made Lovino feel good, and Feliciano liked him, and things had been good when he was here. He wasn't here now. Why was that? He could have been a shoulder to cry on for all of them even though he never owed them that, but he would still do it, because that's who he was. Roma was also that way, but he wasn't even awake. Lovino wanted comfort. He saw it in Feliciano, too, they couldn't do this by themselves. There wasn't a person in the world who'd go through with this themselves. Not without scars, at least.

Lovino stood, walked over to the side of the bed, put the stool away, and looked at Roma.

"What time is it?" He asked his brother quietly.

"Almost eight." The answer was a whisper, and then a sniffle.

"Have you eaten?"

"Yes."

Lovino nodded. He turned to his brother, offering a small, sad smile. Feliciano had told him once that he had a pretty smile and that he should use it more often. Lovino had said that that was selfish of him because they looked so alike, but Feliciano had protested, saying that everyone had their own smile. Lovino had scoffed, but he liked the thought of that.

* * *

Lovino glanced at the clock but did not fully register what he saw. It was late though, he knew that, and Feliciano had gone to sleep some time ago. Roma had woken up eventually, and it had surprised Lovino when the man apologised to them instead of coming up with excuses or false promises. Perhaps it had finally hit him that things were not all right, or normal, or was gradually becoming so either. Although, Roma still said no word of intending to pay the hospital a visit.

He had taken a shower, hugged his wet-cheeked, tired grandson and then they had both decided to sleep. Lovino could not copy their actions, despite feeling a lack of energy himself.

So he'd settled by a table by the wall in the dining hall, leaning against it with drawn eyebrows and alcohol on the table. As his grandfather had woken up, he'd felt as if they were at least one step closer to being okay, not that he knew why, because Roma was always going to wake up eventually. They'd been through this a few times to know how it worked, yet it never failed to worry them senseless.

However, now, Lovino sunk back into a displeasing feeling of knowing that the worse had yet to come, or at least so he feared. If things were not going to be all right, ever, then what would they do? He could not imagine having to live without his grandfather. Not just yet. He wasn't sure if he and Feliciano could handle being a family, just the two of them. And neither was he sure that he could part from someone so important to him permanently.

He could allow himself one night of emphasised misery, and so he stayed put by the small table, alone in a dark, vast room of more tables and more chairs and a full bottle to worsen his throbbing head. It was quiet, and if he closed his eyes and blocked out the way his pulse beat severely all the way out to his fingertips, he could hear voices. He knew that this would have been unnerving if he was sober, but right now he could blame the alarming hallucinations on his drink.

And he ruled over them, the voices, or the _voice_, as it was really just a single one. He thought about Roma's voice quavering and asking for forgiveness and telling how he hated to scare Feliciano the way he'd done. He thought about Feliciano answering with a restrained, high-pitched noise as he hugged his grandfather in relief. He thought about him wondering whether Lovino was going to bed as well or not, and then bidding him good night. He thought about Emma repeating Italian words impeccably and he thought about a sour man behind a stall asking her for more money. Lovino smiled.

He thought about his own voice talking in a menacing tone towards his unconscious grandpa, and with a tone calmer than usual, addressing his brother. And he wrinkled his nose in something akin to disgust, and he thought about laughing beside Antonio in water so cold it pricked his skin with ache, breathing onto his collarbone in the middle of a dancing crowd, nervously saying goodbye after nearly being kissed. And he smiled, thinking about Antonio's voice instead. His voice shouting from a balcony, or reading a letter to him, which was impossible to recall but wonderful to imagine. He often contemplated answering with a letter of his own, but never did. He considered it stupid, since there were phones and instant messaging, but Antonio seemed to have a thing for letters. He had claimed it to be romantic, so there was that.

"Not tonight," Lovino muttered, shaking his head to himself. He _would_ answer, only some other time.

Still, he felt alone, and decided that something had to be done about that. On wobbly legs he marched into the kitchen, clearing his throat until it hurt a little as he dialled a number he barely remembered at the moment, and pressed the phone to his ear.

"Yes?" A soft voice answered.

"Emma." Lovino said, and he could hear her lips form a kind smile as she hummed affirmatively. "Hi."

"Hi, Lovino," she said, and Lovino could swear he felt the breath of laughter fall from her lips against the shell of his ear.

"Hi." He said again, picking at the telephone with his fingertips. "What are you doing?"

"Well, I was about to get ready to go to sleep. It's rather late. Why? Do you need something?"

He laughed, though he wasn't sure why, repeating her under his breath. "Do I need something..." He sat down on the small stool, standing beside the wall as usual. "Could you, uh... Would you come? Over? Please, Emma! Please, I have dr...drink... It's a... hard word..."

She giggled, though sounding a bit confused. "You're drunk, aren't you?"

"And you're jealous!" He said loudly, "But! Listen! If you come over... you can, listen, you can get drunk too, if you wanna," his voice lowered to a whisper as he spoke. Emma was quiet for a while, before sighing.

"No thank you, I'm good," she said, "although I feel a little worried about you. Why drink this late, hm? Is Feliciano drinking, too?"

Lovino shook his head, nearly dropping the phone in the process. "No, he's sleeping. I have to be quiet."

"Good job you're doing then," she teased, and he heard her smile again.

"Come take care of me, would'ya?" He let his head fall back against the wall, a vague headache bothering him, "I don't feel very well."

"I thought as much." Emma said, and kept silent for another moment before Lovino could hear some rummaging on the other end, and she spoke, "All right. I'll be over in a few minutes, okay? Don't do anything stupid."

"_Danke_! That's German. Feli taught me that. But don't tell him I used the word 'cause I said I would never. It's not a pretty language, German. He won't listen to me when I inform him of that, though."

Another puff of air left her in amusement, and Lovino scratched his ear with the phone. "Of course, dear. See you soon."

Lovino sat still on the stool for another two minutes after a click disconnected his friend from communication, him staring at the kitchen around him, knuckles pressing against his forehead in a vain attempt to rid him of his headache. It did not work, unfortunately.

Lovino then stood, put the phone away, and retreated to his seat by the table and the numbing beverage. It did not take long for Emma to arrive, and her short heels clicked against the floor as she walked into the dining hall, polite smile flourishing in her face when she spotted Lovino. He smiled back, and held out the bottle towards her as she sat down opposite him, but she shook her head at the offer, so Lovino pressed the head of the bottle against his own lips and swallowed more liquid.

"Let that be your last drink of the night, Lovino. You won't be able to sleep." Emma said, and Lovino nodded even though he felt like falling asleep any second. He figured Emma knew this, but her reasoning worked nevertheless. "How are you feeling?" She asked.

Lovino smacked his tongue and knitted his eyebrows together, looking down, "My head hurts."

Emma nodded. "It's the alcohol, I'm sure. What about emotionally?"

"Mm..." He sat back, shaking his head, "no."

"No?"

"No. Bad."

"Do you feel like talking about it?"

Lovino shook his head, but spoke anyway. "I don't know if I'm angry. I think I am. And I feel alone. That's why I called you." He smiled, and Emma returned the gesture, hers looking somewhat sadder.

"You should probably get some sleep. Do you need help with anything? Climbing the stairs, for example?"

He laughed, once again unsure as to why. Emma stood and carried the bottle into the kitchen, before returning and locking her arm with Lovino to walk him upstairs. He couldn't help but to feel like a really old person. A drunk one at that, too. He plucked on the short, light hair-strands on her arms and rested his head on her shoulder.

"You're very pretty." He told her, and she squeezed his arm a little.

"Thank you," she said, half-uncomfortable and half-charmed by his drunken nonsense. It was always hard to tell whether people became more honest or more full of bullshit when intoxicated with alcohol, she thought, but she didn't doubt her attractiveness much, so she'd take Lovino's remark as a sincere compliment despite it all.

"And I'm feeling lonely," he muttered, slumping against her a bit more, which made the stairs somewhat difficult to climb. He sighed deeply against her shoulder, the warmth of his breath pressing against her skin through her blouse. "I really liked him," he murmured, voice shaky and whiny.

"Like," she corrected, "Lovino, he's not gone yet. He's just... on a vacation."

"Hah, from me."

"No, in fact, it's the other way around. He was on a vacation when he was here, wasn't he?"

"But now he's home. Because you can't be on a vacation forever, even though you want to. Even though the location may be very exotic and nice and pretty it would get expensive because you're not working and you would start missing home eventually. You always return home eventually."

She couldn't help but to smile, wanting to comment on how he sounded a bit like his brother, and ask if that always happened when he was drunk, but she was silenced before even leaking her first syllable by a pair of sloppy lips meeting hers, and her body against the wall. She nearly fell down the stairs.

Emma froze, eyebrows shot up in shock as she managed to clutch the shoulders opposite hers, pushing the Italian away from her face. When his came into her sight, she saw tears making their way down it.

"Hell," he muttered, sniffling.

"L-Lovino... I think you need to calm down," she wiped a salty droplet off of his flushed cheek. "Don't cry... and don't kiss me." She let out a breath of laughter, and he couldn't believe how understanding she was, even when he didn't even understand himself. "You're really not used to being left like this, are you?"

Wobbly in his movements, he backed away further from Emma, ending up on a step below her, eyes low and matted hair hanging down his forehead. "I'm _too_ used to it."

She was silent, looking a little sheepish. One of her fair hands reached out, touching his arm. Lovino flinched, but stayed where he stood.

"I think you should go to sleep now, before you end up doing something worse than attempting a make-out with me," she smiled, "if I know you as well as I feel I do, this will be enough already for you to feel guilty and angry with yourself tomorrow. So I'm expecting an apology."

Lovino sighed again. "I better get to writing you a real' good one then," he said, making his way up the stairs, slumped against the wall and gripping the handrail to avoid falling backwards.

"Good night, sweetie," she watched with caution, prepared to catch him, and descended with relief as he made it to the top without any injuries. As Emma put her coat and shoes on, she could hear him engaging in some too-loud singing, and she grinned, before the voice about to wake his sleeping family broke and turned into quiet sobbing. She made a mental note to remind Feliciano to keep Lovino away from alcohol for a while. Over-emotional, irrational drunks were never fun for anyone. Although, on the other hand, she found his honesty immensely interesting.


	15. Chapter 15

"_Antonio,_

_To be honest, I wasn't going to answer your letter at first, because I was still pissed and kind of ridiculous. But then I experienced what I guess was sort of a wake-up call (and also you just kept writing to me), so I decided that letting you know that I'm still alive had become obviously mandatory. I'll go ahead and let you know that though I'm still breathing and all, it's getting crucial for grandpa. You seemed interested in the matter when you were here, so I'm going to take for granted you want to know how he's doing now as well. Feliciano and I got a doctor to come to the house, and he said that the disease Roma is suffering from (which I don't remember the name of) wasn't that hard to treat nowadays. The majority of the people who get it survives, and even though he was mad because we let it go on for as long as it did, making the illness more serious, we're blindly hoping that he'll be fine. In truth, I don't know what to think, because it's hard to be realistic when it hurts and scares you. On another note, I think that if Feliciano knew I was writing this, he'd ask me to tell you to come back again. I know you already intend to do so, though, unless you've changed your mind. Anyway, he misses you, I guess. So does Emma. And. Yeah.  
I don't want letter-writing to become a continuous thing we do to keep in touch though, 'cause unless you haven't realised it yourself yet (I doubt you have), it's idiotic. There are phones, Antonio. Learn how to use them._

– _Lovino"_

* * *

**Aragon, Spain**

Time healed and time changed, and everything settled and everything would be okay in the end, this was something Antonio had learnt when he was younger. He couldn't recall who had said it, or if he had read it, but it had seemed like a load of nonsense to him until proven correct. Eventually the passing of hours would smooth the rough surface of a sickened and bothered mind. Eventually the distance between himself and someone dear to him wouldn't exist like an itch under his skin, or a rumbling of distress when he tried to sleep, or a tug at his chest when he realised again and again that he missed Lovino and he would do so until he'd be lucky enough to meet him once more. To be honest, this wasn't the hardest thing he had ever gone through. Far from it, actually, but it was one of those small things that just wouldn't leave him alone. It grew and grew, and damn did he hate how he couldn't for his life act like a mature person, but rather whining around and feeling ill at ease at suddenly being back in school and not holding hands with Lovino. He didn't know an exact date when he would get to see Lovino's face again, or hear his voice, or be able to touch him; which hour or minute or second the sight and scent would be like a déjà vu to him, but he knew it would happen eventually. He'd make sure of that. Because even though his days grew easier, and his concentration towards his studies sharpened once more, he'd still made a promise to Lovino that he would return, and Antonio had never been one to break his promises (he did his best not to, at least). Surely he _could_ forget him, but he did not _want_ to.

And he'd be damned if he ever gave in and agreed when Gilbert told him he was acting childishly, which he knew was a correct statement, but it didn't make it go away. He hadn't really ever missed anyone this way before. His friend had told him how weird it was for him to over-react in such proportions as he did, especially since Antonio had in fact informed him of how short the time span they had been together had been, and how little he had gotten to explore of Lovino, physically and mentally speaking.

"I guess I was teased," he had explained, and sensed right away that he would make an idiot out of himself by saying such stupid things. Gilbert already looked incredulous. "You know, got to taste something really sweet but couldn't eat it all."

And Gilbert laughed at him, calling him a drama queen. But perhaps he deserved that.

* * *

**June 3rd  
Florence, Italy**

Lovino sometimes closed his eyes and saw a smiling face, or dreamt of an exposed, tan body he never got the chance to touch thoroughly. But more often than not, life wasn't hard, and Antonio wasn't haunting him or so. Just appearing every now and then, reminding him of two things:

One, Lovino's life sucked even more than he sometimes thought it did, because not only was he feeling melancholy, and not only was his grandfather barely even speaking anymore, and not only was he still stuck in a place he'd had _more_ than enough of, but he'd also been granted the presence of something spectacular just to have it torn from Lovino at the blink of an eye.

Two, his life _wasn't_ completely hell despite everything, because he did have – as far as he knew – someone waiting, thinking of him. It was a reassuring thing that at least he wasn't alone in his misery. And his brother was with him too, if not with Antonio on his mind every other day, then the worries considering their grandpa. Emma was by their sides too, being a source of support, which was now more and more often. Lovino was glad that not even his brash behaviour after infinite gulps of alcohol had scared her away. "What friend would I be then, avoiding you because you were an idiot when intoxicated?" She'd said, when he apologised for what happened and thanked her for still being there like it was nothing.

She hadn't let the night pass entirely without consequences though, because she'd started acting as if Lovino was a child needing a pat on the back and a lollipop. Her tone when speaking to him was often sympathetic-sounding, and her actions were even kinder than usual. He knew she'd heard him crying at the very end of her late-night visit, but he did not know why she was unable to let it go. Being over-emotional when drunk wasn't an unusual thing, but Emma refused to let go of her notion that there was a much more serious case that Lovino could not see himself. Or refused to acknowledge, at least.

And Feliciano seemed to have jumped the bandwagon as well, sometimes caught staring at Lovino with a pensive wrinkle between his brows, as if he was trying to figure something out. Deducting that there was a deep depression or something hiding inside his brother. Feliciano had told him once that he seemed so sad these days, and Lovino had scoffed with a lump in his throat. Something about all the caring attention was triggering something, he knew, and soon it would boil over and... Well, frankly he did not know what he would do then, but he wasn't too keen on finding out either. He was legally an adult since some time now, but he often felt like a fifteen year old with hormones up and about, causing trouble inside him day in and day out. Emotionally, he had become something of a roller-coaster, while he still stayed apathetic, and pondering how that could be wasn't even something he'd had the energy to bother with.

"You have no feelings." He told himself quietly, re-reading the letter he'd reluctantly written to Antonio. "No mentions what so ever about _you_ missing him, or feeling down, nor any positive words of him."

Which was perhaps good. He knew the feeling of missing someone all too well, and he knew what letting that feeling expand could do to you, and he was pretty sure Antonio's presence was partly the cause of his negative mood, but he'd still prefer to just tell Antonio what he was _absolutely_ certain of. Like, for instance, the fact that Roma was feeling worse than ever, or that he originally did not want to write a letter and neither does he want to do it again, or that Emma and Feliciano would want to meet him again soon. All other things were sort of vague, yet painfully obvious.

"You _do_ miss him, idiot." He dropped the piece of paper back onto the desk, face falling into his palms. He did, really, but how did he put that into writing? Either way it seemed ridiculous. Bluntly stating_ "I miss you"_ was an option and it was simple and it felt like _him_, but he didn't want to. He knew he was being childish and difficult, but he just refused to.

Then there was the option of over-statements, of course, in which he could go as far as to write a darn poem, but that option only made the corner of his mouth twitch into a smile of "never in hell."

And of course being bashful about it. _"Well, I guess it was sort of better when you were here,"_ or something of the like, but why bother? It wasn't as if Antonio did not see through it anyway. So in the end, he didn't even mention it, and now he felt indifferent, but maybe the Spaniard would see through that as well. Maybe he'd look at the text and laugh to himself and feel another tug at his heart because he missed the guy who couldn't be profoundly sincere even when he tried his best. Now Lovino was wondering whether that was an attribute protecting him, or if it was hell for him and charming for the keen eye, or perhaps it was just something everyone wished he'd get over. Being genuine was just his Mount Everest to climb sometimes. Supposedly, it sort of depended on what he'd have to be genuine about. It was never a problem telling Feliciano he was being a pain in the ass, for example. Although, Lovino guessed, he'd been practising that since before he could walk.

Deciding not to think about it too much, he trapped his letter in an envelope and sealed it, eyes darting from where his hand moved a pencil across it to the small note beside where Antonio's address was scribbled in Emma's handwriting. She'd looked so jubilant when he asked for it, and he'd want to come up with an excuse, but really, it was clear as the day what he wanted it for and there was no fooling the Belgian. She'd labelled herself a professional when it came to relationships, with a special education in Antonio And Lovino, or something. Not that she'd stated those exact words, but Lovino was just waiting for them to leave her lips nowadays. He didn't ask for relationship advice very often, neither did she bring up the subject of the Hispanic man much, but there was a silent knowing that if he did wonder about anything, she'd answer it right away. And although she had never even seen him and Antonio together, she had a confidence in her answers being correct and useful either way.

Scampering downstairs and outside without being noticed, Lovino hurried to get his letter sent before he changed his mind about it. His reasons for letting it rest in ripped pieces in his trash can were more than the ones supporting the idea of letting Antonio actually receive it, but he managed to ignore this, and at the pit of his gut there was a strange twist of nervousness and relief at the same time as he walked back home, steps a bit slower than before and hands empty of callous messages on paper.

* * *

"This is very nice," Roma stated with a tired smile, nodding his head and pointing his fork at the half-eaten, kid-sized meal on his plate. "Your cooking is just getting better and better, isn't it?" He laughed quietly, and Lovino gave a small nod in thanks across the table. He glanced over to his brother, who was looking bothered by how little their grandfather was eating, but too afraid to say anything. Lovino knew they had been nagging at him quite a lot, but he wasn't scared to let it become a habit until Roma was healthy again. He had been feeling better lately, which was sending their naïve optimism sky-rocketing again. But it was still too soon to celebrate anything.

"Then eat up," Lovino mumbled, and Roma looked a bit guilty despite the crease in his forehead displaying how tired he was of being treated like a child. Lovino still felt as if he deserved it, considering how immature he had been acting.

"My appetite isn't..." Their grandfather began, shrugging a shoulder and sitting back in his chair, but he then fell silent.

The room was silent as well for a few seconds, before the older of the brothers heaved a sigh. "You'll end up malnourished. The doctor said it was important you-"

"I know what he said, Lovino. I'm trying." He took a gulp of water before continuing again, the mood completely turned into the vicious yet calm fighting through accusations and excuses very common between them these days. "But unless you've forgotten, he also said the situation has gotten very serious, so it's not that easy for me."

"It's not easy for us either." Lovino muttered, not really hoping Roma would hear him, since playing the blame-game wasn't something any of them needed.

"Don't go there, boy, I'm not doing this to see you suffer and you are well aware of that. The last thing I'd want to do is put my grandsons in misery."

To that, Lovino had a hard time choosing which cocky remark to respond with, and before he'd have time to enrage his grandpa by being obstinate, Feliciano spoke in a careful voice.

"Did you do something special to the sauce, Lovino? It tastes differently."

Lovino looked up at him in silence, offered an uncertain smile.

"It's good though."

His eyes shifted back to Roma, who seemed to be eyeing the room around them, jaw tightened and hands rubbing his thighs back and forth, slowly, the very rhythm uncomfortable and frustrated. Lovino looked at his brother again. "I added more spices, that's all." He said, and Feliciano nodded, going back to finishing his food.

* * *

**July 11th**  
**Aragon, Spain**

"He answered a few times. Two, I think, but then he stopped," Antonio explained to Emma, lying on his back with limbs sprawled out over the bed and phone tucked against his ear. "...Yeah, but he did say in the first one that he didn't want it to become a habit. He said he preferred calling."

Emma laughed shortly. "Really? He seems like the sort of person to find it easier expressing himself in writing rather than talking."

Antonio shrugged, unseen by the Belgian. "He said the letters were idiotic, but he was never one to hold back with negative words like that, I guess." He grinned to himself. "I still think writing is nice, though."

"You're not writing to him still, are you? If he's not answering, you-"

"No, no. I sent him another one some time after he didn't answer the previous, but that's it. And it was just because I really had to tell him about some stuff, so..."

She giggled. "Ah, I see. Well from what I can tell, he's pretty stable. No worse, no better... How are you?"

"I'm good," he said, a genuine smile on his lips. It was always a bother missing somebody, but he felt positive nonetheless. "And you? We don't have to talk about my failed attempts at wooing Italians into trouble-free relationships with me, you know. I bet Lovino keeps you informed anyway."

"I make sure of it," she said, her smile detectable through her voice, "and I'm quite good, thank you. Missing home a little, but it's nice here."

"Mm," he said, closing his eyes with a yawn. It was only half past nine in the afternoon so far, but he was already feeling rather tired. Lucky for him, conversation held on for only a few more minutes before his friend had to say goodbye, and he was granted an early night's sleep.

* * *

**July 15th**  
**Florence, Italy**

The only thing Lovino had been able to listen to at all during the day had been the constant chatter from the many people out in the dining hall, and now, as it was dark and empty out there, he did his best to get his radio working again. He could only take so many hours replacing the routine of low music throughout the day with voices of strangers (as well as his brother's, every now and then.) The batteries were changed, but the stubborn advice refused to pop back to life no matter what buttons he pressed.

He breathed swear words as his eyebrows pulled closer together, his fingers plucking until the backside opened again, and he removed the batteries and put them back in. Rearranging the antenna and turning the volume up, a woman's voice blasted through the old speakers. He turned it off again, now hearing footsteps approaching the kitchen, and he turned around to meet Roma's look from the door opening.

"Is it working?" He asked, sounding careful in his words.

Lovino nodded. "Yeah, but I think it'll be time to get a new one soon. When did you buy this anyway? The 1800's?"

Roma smiled. "Lovino, I've been thinking..."

The young Italian waited for a continuation, but it seemed as if he'd missed his queue to speak. "...About... getting a new radio?"

"No," Roma walked further into the kitchen, looking around for some place to sit inside and settling for the stool beside the telephone. "About what you said before. Considering... travelling, or..."

"Really?" Lovino interrupted the fading sentence, his pulse a vivid beat throughout him. "And?"

"And..." Roma began, rubbing the stub on his chin, "I think that maybe it is in fact time you got a vacation." He smiled kindly. Lovino wasn't entirely sure what he meant by that, but this pleasant surprise cast a shadow over his wondering, and he couldn't help but to return the smile. "If you find someone to go with, that is."

He rolled his eyes, but made no objection despite Roma's invalid orders. He was of age, and the only reason he still obeyed was the feeling of duty and righteousness. It hit him again, however, and made him doubt whether or not it would be good to leave Feliciano alone with Roma now that he was sick. Although, his health had been getting better lately, after all.

"Okay. Sure." He nodded frantically, fiddling with the radio in his hands. "Yeah, okay. No problem. I... Thank you."

His grandfather looked pleased, and walked over to him, face glad despite the obvious fatigue still filling him. It reminded Lovino that maybe he should ask about it, just to be sure.

"Is it all right though, do you think... I mean, to leave you here, just-"

"It's fine, Lovino. It's not like you'll be gone for several years, are you?"

"Well, no, but-"

"And I still have Feliciano with me, don't I?"

"I suppose. But he-"

"Lovino. Go. Why don't you ask that beautiful blonde of yours to follow?"

He considered it, and came to the conclusion that it was a very good option. One he probably would have suggested to himself as well. Surely Emma would want to come with him, wherever he'd be going. It didn't really matter that much, as long as he started somewhere.

There was a quiet moment of thinking and hesitating, because even though Lovino had been so sure he'd be jumping the first opportunity he got without a second of doubt, he suddenly felt as if things were different. Perchance because of the lack of knowledge he'd had before of what would happen to his family. The situation wasn't crucial, however, he reminded himself, and let the part of his mind that said "no" rest in the shadow of the ecstatic one.

"I'm going to call her then," he announced, the corners of his lips stuck in hooks unwilling to let his smile fade. Roma nodded, looking happy for his sake, and Lovino was sure it was just his brain playing tricks on him, but he might have just spotted an ounce of sadness or worry in his guardian's orbs as well. If it was _not_ hallucinations however, he guessed it was just his grandfather being a bit uncertain about letting Lovino travel without him. He had always been protective, after all, which despite its downsides, really was a good attribute.

Lovino scattered over to the phone on the wall, struggling for a moment to remember her number before pressing the buttons and holding the advice against his ear with an impatient foot tapping against the floor. She answered after only a few signals, but Lovino could swear those signals were much longer than usual.

"Yes?"

"Hi," he said, suddenly unsure of what he would say. He didn't even know where he was going. "Hi, uh..."

"Hey, Lovino! What's up?" She sounded glad at the recognition of his voice, faltering but yet all the same, apparently.

"I'm going abroad, and, uh... I mean," he began, scowling at the wall before him at his grandfather's chuckle, supposedly erupted because of Lovino's roused state.

"Not you too," she laughed, "why is it none of you pretty boys choose to stay in Italy, hm?"

"Do you want to follow?"

Emma was quiet for a moment, before laughing again. She sounded perplexed as she spoke, "You have a weird sense of humour, I must say. And you... sound completely serious, too."

"I am! I mean... Just a vacation. I'm going abroad for a vacation. But I don't want to go alone."

"Oh!" Emma sounded relieved, and he shook his head at his own odd behaviour. He'd been so suddenly hit with such happy news after several weeks of having his joy drained from him, it was difficult to fathom.

"Oh... I'd love to, Lovino," Emma continued, "but I don't know if I could afford that. You know, I already am abroad, after all."

He hadn't thought of that. "Right. Fuck. Damn, okay." He said, biting his bottom lip, and a swearword-disapproving clear of Roma's throat was heard behind him. Lovino felt a bit sheepish about his language as well; he never really liked to cuss to a lady, but the moment passed and he didn't have time to care. "I'll just ask someone else."

"I'm sorry, dear," her voice was soft, "I really would love to go if I could."

"It's okay," he calmed himself a bit, trying to remind himself that there wasn't really a limited time-period for this or something. He still felt stressed though. "It's all very sudden anyway. To me as well."

"So he finally let you go, huh?" Her sentence came out through a smile, as she knew how badly he'd wanted to travel. It had only been brought up in conversation between the two once though, and he was a bit surprised she actually remembered.

"If I have someone to go with, that is." Lovino made clear, his voice revealing distinctly what he thought of that. Emma hummed affirmatively, and he could tell she was still trying to think of a way to follow, though he knew she would not afford it, and neither could he afford to pay for both of them. Even if he only decided to go somewhere near in Europe, travelling could end up rather expensive. If not for the actual trip, then the activities within the destination. He didn't want her to feel bad though, even if he was at a loss when it came to who else he could bring along.

* * *

_AN: __I struggled a lot with this chapter and I let it take me over a month because school and school and school. Therefore, I apologise for errors or ridiculous writing or other things that could possibly occur. I rushed at the end because I felt bad for not updating._

_On another note, I find it funny that Antonio is currently in a place called "Arago(r)n". I don't think I had heard of this place before._

_Also, refrain from asking which university he is in, because even though I'll admit I did do some research about universities in northern Spain, collecting more facts than could ever be necessary, the school is fictional. I don't want to risk stating incorrect facts or so._


	16. Chapter 16

**About half a year later (May 2nd)  
****Florence, Italy**

Lovino wasn't quite sure if he had heard the words correctly just now, or if the possibility he was considering was rational at all, but instead of asking, he kept silent. Francis anticipated his reaction with calm eyes and half a smile; Emma with giddy excitement about to boil over, wanting to see the same thing happening to Lovino; Feliciano shocked with eyes flickering between the variety of people around the table; and Roma, face identical to his youngest grandson's.

"You... R...Really?" Lovino stuttered, feeling a twitch in one of his eyebrows as his thoughts and emotions jumbled around inside him.

Francis nodded slowly, seeming pleased with the roused state he'd gotten the Italian into with such a simple phrase as the one he'd uttered just a handful of seconds ago. "Really, yes." He confirmed, and Lovino pursed his lips in order not to let them break into a wide, goofy grin. He bit his bottom lip, nodded, and now his brother's face broke into the smile he himself wouldn't allow.

"Well, I'm going to have to think about it, obviously," Lovino said, shrugging a shoulder. He wanted to seem impassive about this, truth be told. Francis was still Francis, and no matter how ecstatic he made Lovino by offering something as simple as a ticket to France, this guy wasn't supposed to be able to bring anything other than annoyance out of the depths of Lovino. No happiness or thankfulness. God forbid the idea of actually considering hugging Francis for his thoughtfulness. He was only pulling Lovino's leg to see him freak out about this all, anyway. A lot of people around him often seemed to try their best to lure emotion from him, which he would scarcely let happen. Being all too open was uncomfortable, he'd decided long ago.

He'd be succinct. "After all, I have to find someone to replace me in the kitchen. And also I have to pack and... stuff. And... uh," well, what kept Lovino from just accepting the offer right away was the mere idea of travelling with Francis. He could admit, the guy wasn't atrocious through and through, but he wasn't the ideal seat-mate in a plane or train or whatever, either. Not to Lovino, at least.

"I'm not saying I'm going home _tomorrow_, Lovino, there's no need to stress it. Just try not to wait until Christmas. I've promised to be home to celebrate it," he gave a little wink, "now, a chef shouldn't be too hard to fix, should it, Roma?"

Roma shrugged, looking a bit indifferent. "That depends on how long Lovino intends to stay abroad, I guess. But supposedly, no, it wouldn't be."

Francis nodded once, turning his light sapphire eyes on Lovino again. "Think about what I'm offering here."

And he did. He really did, honestly. There was not a single cloud of doubt in his mind that he would go, because being there would be wonderful, but the way to get there was still a bit unsettling to imagine. During the few moments Lovino had been alone with Francis, however – or the ones when he'd seen him alone with Roma or Feliciano – the Frenchman had been much more calm and amiable than usually. No flirting, a lot less teasing, a lot more humming tunes Lovino did not recognise (which was irritating in a way, but kept him from speaking, Lovino reasoned).

"Well, whatever," Lovino stood from the table, eyeing the front door, his shoes, Emma's ribbon, "so when? This Friday? Next week? Tomorrow?"

A bubbly laugh erupted from Francis, smooth and lively, "You are excited, I get that. Ah, you are _so_ up for this. But no need to rush. Friday sounds lovely."

Lovino huffed at his statements, before sitting down again. "How long do you think the trip will take?"

"From Florence to Toulouse by car... Well, not more than ten hours, anyway."

Lovino bit his bottom lip. More or less ten hours sounded dreadful, but he could always sleep half of the way. "I thought we'd be going by train or something?"

Francis shrugged, eyebrows raised in consideration. "We could have, but I have my car with me and I need it back in France, you see."

Feliciano made a pensive humming sound, bringing the attention to him before he spoke. "I thought you said you lived near Paris, isn't Toulouse in southern France?"

"It is," Francis nodded, an impressive smile upon his lips, "but I – oh, maybe I should have mentioned this to you earlier, Lovino – I have to meet up with a few friends of mine first. They're in Spain right now, _aching_ to see me again after such a long time apart!" Lovino rolled his eyes at this, but did not think too much of it. Supposedly, there was no obligation on his shoulders to spend time with Francis' friends at all. In fact, he rather believed they'd want him out of their way, if there was even the smallest bit of truth in what Francis had said about them missing him. Lovino could always do some sightseeing on his own until they were done.

"Sure." he said. Francis looked slightly appalled by his nonchalant answer, but then nodded, pleased that the Italian wouldn't be as much trouble as he might have suspected. He hadn't missed the talk of Lovino's dissatisfaction from being here, and considered a long time ago whether or not he should ask the boy to tag along when Francis returned to his home country. As suspected, Lovino rather appreciated that idea.

"Wonderful. I will probably stay in Toulouse for a couple of days, so if you don't feel like waiting you can always go to Paris yourself a bit earlier by train or bus." Francis suggested.

"Depends on how I like Toulouse, I guess." Lovino shrugged. Were he bored by the city, he might just travel onwards on his own, but it might just be good enough, and in that case there was no reason for him to leave until Francis did so.

* * *

"Have fun now, but don't be away for too long," Roma touched his grandson's cheek, looking as if he was heartbroken albeit about to fragment of pride any second, which Lovino couldn't for his life understand, but his grandfather had the habit of being over-emotional in certain situations. More often than not those situations had something to do with Lovino and Feliciano. He'd never commented or complained about it though, since he had to concede that the obvious love Roma contained for his grandsons was rather endearing.

"Yeah, yeah," Lovino craned his neck backwards, allowing air between Roma's fingers and his face. Roma let his hand fall to clasp the other one with an unsteady breath. "You and Feliciano just try not to get yourselves killed while I'm gone, okay?"

A full laughter erupted from Roma, and he nodded, rubbing an eye which Lovino suspected was about to spill over with a tear or two, and so Lovino rolled his own completely tear-lacking eyes. He bent down to grab the handle of his suitcase, nodded and smiled at his grandpa, and turned towards Francis, who was busy putting out his cigarette with his shoe.

"Well." Lovino said, and the Frenchman looked up at him.

"Well?" Francis repeated with raised eyebrows, and then shifted his orbs to the elder man behind Lovino, realising that they needed to say goodbye as well. After all, Francis wasn't coming back to Italy any time soon, unlike Lovino, and he couldn't deny the friendship that had flourished between Roma and himself the farewell it desired and deserved. With a deep inhale, he took a step past Lovino and reached a hand out to the latter's grandfather.

"I'll see you soon, _signore_." Francis said with a swelling smile. Roma winked at him.

"And I you, _monsieur_." with a nod, he released the grasp of Francis' hand, but only a few seconds of silence passed before they were interlocked in a hug, clapping each other on the backs and telling the other to come visit, voices a bit shaky.

"I'll be in the car." Lovino sighed, turning his back towards them. He walked around the vehicle, put his bag in the backseat and then sat down in the passenger's seat with a second sharp exhale, watching the looming road ahead of them. His stomach churned in anticipation and he could feel his heart-beat from his chest to the pit of his gut. Soon the door opposite him opened and Francis sat down, asking if Lovino was sure he'd brought everything he needed, then starting the car. As they drove, Lovino listened to the English-speaking, up-beat guy on the radio, talking about god knows what before some modern pop song blasted through the speakers. He wondered how Francis had found this channel, as Lovino had spent a lot of time in his life turning the wheels on his own radio without ever finding anything American. Perhaps it was a one-day special or something, he pondered, sinking down comfortably in his seat.

"So how does it feel, hm?" Francis spoke rather loudly, despite the volume of the radio not really drowning out his voice at all, "You're going to love France, that I'm certain of."

"You think so?" Lovino allowed a tiny smile creeping up on his lips, "Is it anything like Italy?" he then asked, out of pure curiosity, really.

"I suppose, being neighbour-countries, they do share a handful of similar attributes. Nothing strikingly, however. France is it's own country, I'd say!"

"I bet it is." Lovino muttered under his breath, somewhat mockingly. Francis did not seem to take notice of his words.

"Although, I thought you weren't looking for another Italy, that you wanted to see something else? Was I wrong in that assumption?"

Lovino locked his hands together in his lap, "No, I do want to see something different. I was just asking."

"Ah." Francis nodded, and they both returned their attention to the radio as the song eventually ended and the energetic, young man continued his cheery monologues. His voice bothered Lovino a bit, but he couldn't help but to feel entertained, nevertheless. The man made him think of Feliciano just a tad, though he got the feeling they were two different types of energetic, somehow.

"So you have never been out of your country before, correct?" Francis asked him, and Lovino simply shook his head. "But you have been out of Florence, right?"

"I have," Lovino confirmed, imagining a life locked inside the city for all his twenty years of living. The city was rather big, and it was beautiful, no doubt, but who would want to sit in the same room forever knowing there's a whole mansion around them to explore? "What about you? I mean, I know you've been to Italy, but..."

He was interrupted by Francis' laughter, loud and short, "Oh, yes, I've been around. Spain, Italy, Austria. I've rounded the Baltic Sea and said hello to the Japanese, too. I've yet to see America, though... And I don't think Great Britain is my kind of country..."

"How can you even afford that?" Lovino blurted out, a sheepish tint to his cheeks due to his rudeness right away, which he ignored, "I mean, you look pretty young, so it's not like you've worked all your life, saving up."

Francis clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, "You got me there, Lovino. Ah, no, I was pretty well of to begin with, if I'm to be honest. But I have done some small work here and there along the way, to keep me going. You know, walking dogs for well-paid families, temporary jobs in cafés or shops, helping old people with various tasks..."

"And painting houses?" He interrupted again, and Francis chuckled quietly.

"More so rooms than houses, but yes, that too."

Lovino smirked to himself. Apparently this was a common thing, he thought, remembering the fiasco he'd put himself through, painting walls with Antonio.

He couldn't claim Francis managed to use their hours together to change Lovino's opinion of him much – the man still wasn't exactly one of Lovino's favourite people – but he did prove that the journey could be more pleasant than the Italian had originally assumed. He didn't really let him sleep much, however, and Lovino was a bit sour by the end of their trip, having his plans ruined like that. Conversation went in waves, sometimes a bit awkward as words wouldn't come, sometimes in small-talk that actually made Lovino feel comfortable with him. They made a few stops for toilet-breaks and eating, but kept on the road as much as possible to keep their travelling short. Lovino wasn't always so sure of their current location, but Francis seemed calm and under control. Then again, Lovino figured, he had taken his car from Toulouse to Florence in the first place, so this was not his first time on these roads.

Lovino had guessed them to be somewhere near Marseille when they made another stop and he offered to drive the rest of the way. Francis had looked somewhat appalled by his considerate suggestion, and so had Lovino, but he quickly explained that it had only been because he wouldn't want Francis to fall asleep and get them killed, after having been in front of the wheel during the entire time. The Frenchman laughed and thanked him, but no, he was very fond of his car, and would not even let his friends waiting in Toulouse drive it. Actually, _especially_ not them, he'd then corrected himself. Lovino did not know whether to be offended or not by the lack of faith in him, but it didn't sound like anything personal towards him, so he'd shrugged it off.

"Suit yourself." He'd said, sitting back in his seat. Lovino would trust himself with any car, really. It had taken him quite a few tries to get his drivers license, sure, but he wasn't reckless or so...

By the time they reached the outskirts of Toulouse, the Italian was sound asleep. Nine hours on the road was tiring, he'd found, and his bottom hurt from sitting for so long. Being unconscious helped not to think about problems like that, however. He woke as they got further into the city, and his eyes were disturbed by lights, like his ears by the noise. It was late, he figured, considering the darkness that settled around them, but there were still a lot of people outside.

Lovino sat up straight with a yawn, rolling a shoulder and frowning at the ache in his neck from sleeping awkwardly.

"Are we there?" he asked Francis, who glanced at him briefly and nodded.

He hummed affirmatively, "You woke up just in time."

Francis took a turn past a wide, beige building, with a grand stair-case and old-fashioned lamps and a gigantic sign, which Lovino could not read since it was in French. He felt a bit excluded here, realising he couldn't really understand any of the road-signs either. It was a strange feeling, but the bubbly twist in his stomach reminded him that he was still rather excited about it. Surely France would be pleasant, as the man sitting beside Lovino had promised.

They looked for a spare spot to leave the car in for a good fifteen minutes, climbing floor after floor in the huge car park belonging to the hotel. Every single spot seemed to be occupied, and Lovino doubted all of these were hotel guests, or else there certainly wouldn't be any room for them to sleep. Francis seemed just as irritated as Lovino when they finally found themselves an unoccupied gap and squeezed the car in there. Lovino scowled at their neighbour vehicle as he opened the door slowly, carefully, barely even able to climb out without hitting the car beside him. His eyes sailed over the roof of Francis' car, watching as the Frenchman struggled with the same game of getting out, muttering something which Lovino guessed to be Francis' native language, judging by the deep r's and the lilting sound to it. Even swearwords sounded soft and floaty in French, apparently.

Lovino found that fortunately, there was an elevator in this million-storey construction, and soon they were at the bottom again, Francis wearing a gentle smile as they entered the hotel just beside the car park building. He spoke to the lady in the check-in in French, and the only word Lovino recognised was "_bonjour_," but they were both smiling during the entire conversation, short though it was, before Francis motioned for Lovino to follow him. They entered another elevator, this one not as grey and chilly as the previous, but rather luxurious in interior; red, soft carpet covering the floor, mirrors as walls as ceiling, and buttons that looked like they were made of pure gold. Lovino rather hoped they were fake though, because he wouldn't be able to afford a room if this hotel charged them for golden elevators and first class suites with king-sized beds.

"I asked for my friends," Francis clarified, "room 312, apparently. We'll head downstairs again to get our own rooms after I've greeted them."

"All right." Lovino nodded, struggling to move his suitcase out of the way as the elevator was filled with a group of people. "And, uh, who did you say your friends were?"

"I never did," Francis chuckled to himself, taking a step back, making room for the sudden crowd, "but if you're interested in knowing, they're two goofs from Spain. Or, one from Spain and one from Germany, to be specific."

Lovino nodded again, glad that there were so few of them. He wouldn't have to put up with, say, an entire elevator of people, which was fortunate.

The copious amount of people split in half as they reached another stop, and Lovino exhaled deeply as he parted from the wall behind him. He turned his head, inducing himself with a mini-heart-attack as his own face looked back at him. Who's idea was it to turn the elevator into a gigantic mirror cube anyway? Francis glanced at him from where he stood, a smirk drawn over his lips. Lovino frowned at his own reflection and turned back again.

The elevator stopped once more, and the second half of the crowd exited the crowded space, followed by Francis, who nodded once at Lovino to signal that their destination had been reached. They both clutched the handles on their suitcases and walked into the vast corridor, floor clad with red carpet matching the one in the lobby and the elevator. Both men's eyes stayed plastered on the doors passing beside them, scanning the room numbers. Francis stopped as they were finally in front of a door with '312' upon it, digits cursive and golden in colour.

"Ah, here we are," Francis smiled, placing three loud knocks on the wooden door. It opened nearly instantly, and a light-haired man with stark irises grinned at the Frenchman from the other side of the threshold. Francis held his arms out as some sort of emphasis on his presence. As if it weren't already rather visible.

"Francis!" The man with the pale complexion announced in a deep, raspy tone, "Not a minute late! We got _drinks_." He informed, pronouncing his last word in a somewhat ambiguous way.

Francis laughed and patted the man's shoulder, "As in beer, hm? You don't call beer 'drinks.'" He took a hold of his suitcase and lifted it inside, and Lovino felt uncomfortable, but followed him.

"Still a pain in the ass, I hear," the man lifted Francis' bag into a tall wardrobe, on top of two others, somewhat smaller ones. "But that's good. Wouldn't want those damn Italians influencing you. Not that they'd manage to make you any _less_ of a pain in the..."

"Now, now, Gilbert, we have a living, breathing one with us, remember that. Try not to make a completely rotten first impression for once." Francis interrupted him, motioning to Lovino whose face was already carrying an offended scowl.

"Oh right, fuck," Gilbert scratched his head and grinned at Lovino, "name's Gilbert." He reached a hand out to Lovino, and the latter reluctantly shook it with a nod.

"Gilbert here doesn't always think before he speaks, you'll have to take him with a grain of salt, I'm afraid." Francis clarified, walking past them to sit on one of the beds.

"I heard you managed a nine-hour long car trip with Frenchy here, so I shouldn't be much of a challenge for ya," he winked, and Lovino now noticed his unusual eye-colour. Was that some sort of brown? Maybe he was born with some sort of disease. Maybe he was partially blind or something. Lovino decided not to ask about it. "You don't talk a lot do you?" He continued, not really giving the Italian much of a chance to dismiss that assumption, "What's your name?"

"Lovino," he moved to lift his bag into the wardrobe as well, "I talk when I have something to say."

Gilbert laughed, patting him on the back. Lovino rolled a shoulder, a bit uneasy. "That's excellent. I know way too many people who could use an attribute like that!" Lovino forced a smile, but the stiffness in it could be felt throughout his entire body.

"Gilbert?" Francis spoke up, and the two men still standing beside the door looked over as he scanned the label on one of the beer bottles pensively, "Where's Antonio? I thought he said he was coming as well. His suitcase is..."

"Antonio?" Lovino repeated, ignoring the slight cracking of his voice. He looked at Gilbert, narrowing his eyes. He vividly remembered Francis mentioning one friend from Spain, and another from Germany. "You're not Spanish, are you?"

Gilbert scrunched his nose up, "Uh, no."

"You're German?"

Gilbert snorted. "Yeah. What's..."

"So your other friend is an _Antonio_ from _Spain_?" Then again, Antonio was a rather common name in these parts of Europe, Lovino reasoned with himself. He probably should have kept quiet, because this small outburst would likely only serve him embarrassment and disappointment. Antonio was in Spain. Northern Spain. In Aragon. In university.

Francis nodded at his question, but no one said anything, the two friends obviously perplexed at why it would be important. Lovino's eyes were cast at the floor, him biting his bottom lip thoughtfully. He looked up again as he noticed Gilbert pointing at him, light eyebrows drawn together.

"Is your last name, like, Var...Vor..." he twirled his finger in circles and closed his eyes as he thought out loud, German accent wrenching his v's to f's and pronouncing the r's in a growling-kind-of sound. Lovino felt as if his heart would fly out of his chest any moment.

"Vargas?"

"Yeah, Vargas!" the German's eyes flew open and fixed themselves on Francis, who was looking beyond confused where he sat, "This guy knows Antonio!"

They all looked as if they were about to say something, when the door opened and both Francis and Gilbert turned their eyes towards it. Lovino froze, half-wishing the door would stay shut.

"Hey, Gilbert, they didn't have any deck of cards in the shop, but the lady who worked there said we could... Oh, hi Francis!" Lovino rested a fist against his lips, eyes closed and brows furrowed. He recognised that voice, all right. As if his soles were glued to the floor, and his neck locked, Lovino was unable to turn.

Francis raised a hand slowly, waving at Antonio with an uncertain smile. The Spaniard was confused as to why everyone seemed mute, before the back turned against him caught his attention.

"Ah, hi there, I'm An..." he fell silent, but still reached his hand out, "An-Antonio... Uh..." Antonio's eyes were open wide, his lips ajar, his chest bursting. As he spoke again, his voice was just barely audible, "And you..."

Lovino turned half-ways, and in the corner of his eye he saw Antonio closing his mouth, his breathing stopping. And then the air was suddenly too thick. Lovino needed to go outside.

"Lovino?" Antonio sounded unbelieving, and Lovino now fully looked at him. The Spaniard's was face still adorned with incredulity, but there was a growing smile on his face, eventually so huge and frivolous one might think they hadn't been apart for more than a week. He did not have to say the words, Lovino found it as obvious as ever that he'd been missed, but the light-minded joy in Antonio's eyes brought the realisation to Lovino's mind: he was still upset with him. He touched his own face, dragged his hand over his mouth as if he could wipe away emotions, and shook his head as he turned to leave. The three friends exchanged looks of perplexity, before Antonio flinched, got his senses together and followed the quick-stepped Italian.

"Lovino, wait!" he called after the silhouette taking a sharp turn into the elevator, and Antonio just barely managed to get in himself, having to stop the closing doors with his outstretched arm.

Lovino leaned against the wall inside the elevator, arms crossed and eyes as if they had seen a ghost. Antonio swallowed, unsure of what would be appropriate for him to do now. Lovino was acting so weird right now, but Antonio really couldn't see why hugging him would be anything but right, seeing as he felt he knew Lovino had longed to see him as much as Antonio had longed to see Lovino. So he did just that, walking up to the latter to look at him for a few seconds, out of breath, sharp exhales tickling the hair falling across Lovino's forehead, and then he draped his arms over him like a protective blanket.

The Italian let his arms fall to his sides, and Antonio held him even tighter, arms around Lovino's shoulders, pressing their chests together. Antonio could feel a heavy breath fall against the crook of his neck, making him shiver. Uncertain arms encircled his waist, squeezing his frame once, only to let go the next second. Lovino wriggled out of his embrace, face tense and gaze to the ground. The elevator stopped, made a cheery _bing!_ noise, and as a handful of people crowded the small space, Lovino finally made eye contact with Antonio, as if to say to follow him, and he squeezed out of the elevator. Antonio quickly trailed along, through the lobby and outside, where Lovino stopped beside one of the big plants that stood on either side of the entrance.

Antonio looked around, but not a lot of people seemed to be out in the streets this late evening. With the sun already gone to rest, street-lights and lamps hovering above the buildings' entrances seemed to be the ones responsible for the warm, orange tint that covered the city. It was slightly chilly outside, but as Antonio locked eyes with Lovino again, he forgot about it.

"Hi there," he grinned calmly, although Lovino refused to smile back, it seemed.

"Hi," he responded, at least, and crossed his arms again. Antonio couldn't for his life understand why the other seemed so withdrawn, but a gush of guilt wavered inside of him, nevertheless. Antonio tried smiling again, amiably as ever, and Lovino's gaze fell downwards, with something akin to an expression of hurt upon his face.

"So we meet in France, huh?" the Spaniard tried, crossing his arms as well, though due to coldness, and not defensiveness.

"Yeah," Lovino watched the few passing cars from under his lashes, "um, what exactly are you doing here? I didn't know you knew Francis."

"You took the words right out of my mouth there, Lovino," he chuckled, sitting down with his back against the brick wall. Lovino looked a bit unsure at first, before sitting down as well. "We're friends since way back, but when Gilbert and I started university he didn't want to join us, so we don't really meet him as often anymore. We call though, and..."

"So you _do_ know how to use a phone, then?" Lovino interrupted. Antonio looked a bit lost at first, before letting his head fall back against the wall with a small laughter.

"Yeah! Can you believe it?" Antonio's smile grew, and he could spot the tiniest one appearing as a tug on Lovino's lips, too. "Well, anyway, we decided to meet up once he came back to France. Aragon and Toulouse isn't too far apart, after all."

"Hm," Lovino nodded affirmatively, "and to think you were in Italy at the same time but never knew, huh? I see you're good at keeping in touch."

"Hey now, I was busy. And I figured he had stuff on his own, too."

"You were on a god damn vacation, what the hell kept you _busy_?" Lovino asked with a somewhat mocking tone. Antonio let out a breath of laughter, separating Lovino's hands from each other to grasp one of them in his own. Lovino found his skin as warm as always, tan and soft.

"You did," Antonio shrugged, and Lovino felt he could have bitten into the mawkish sentiment, thick in volume like a juicy apple. Probably not as tasty though, he figured, while his face heated up as if on cue. He snaked his hand out of Antonio's.

"You make it sound as if I was the one intruding and insisting on dates all the time. I thought that was your job."

"Oh, come on! I never insisted on dates, did I? You're so accusatory," he sounded bothered, yet a playfulness remained in his smile, "now you tell me what you're doing in France."

"It's my turn to go on a vacation," he rubbed his palms together, missing the warmth of inside, "Francis suggested I follow him here. I was a bit apprehensive about the idea at first, mind you, I don't like the guy. He's a pain in the ass."

Antonio chuckled, but didn't argue nor defend his friend. Sometimes Lovino wondered if he took his negativity as some sort of humour. He was being dead-serious, though, but maybe Antonio was just charmed – in the oddest way possible. Lovino hadn't ever met anyone who thought his harsh words were anything but unnecessary, really. There were times when Antonio was, too, one of those people.

His light laughter died out with a sigh, and they listened to the sound of Toulouse for a while, the verbal silence allowing more thoughts and questions to bloom. Then, Lovino quietly continued, "We're going to Paris, actually. He said he'd only be staying for a few days or so, to meet with you guys."

Slowly, Antonio bobbed his head in a nod, "Yeah," he breathed, "we don't really have the time or the money to stay for too long, Gilbert and I, so we decided two days would have to do."

"Oh," Lovino was a bit surprised at that, having thought the days would be dreadfully many. To him, at least. Two days were still one day too many, he thought, not very keen on spending time with these three people in particular. Ambiguous emotions struck him though, when it came to being with Antonio. He'd wanted that for a long time – truthfully, he still did – but suddenly he thought that perhaps he should have refused Francis' offer after all. He knew not why he felt that way, however.

Antonio hummed quietly for a moment, before speaking up again, "We thought maybe we'd just... Spend some quality time together, you know. Make it simple. Have a drink in a bar or something. We didn't really plan anything..." Antonio paused with a nostalgic look in his bottle-green orbs, cast low, "But then again, we never really did."

Lovino did not feel like listening to their history, were he to be honest. At least not right now, for there were other questions on his mind, much more relevant to himself.

"I'm wondering," Antonio continued, voice careful, "how about us?" Lovino glanced up at him, but did not answer. He wasn't quite sure what to say. "Do I spend a night or two with my buddies, return to Spain and school and missing you? Do you go to Paris with Francis, and then back home?"

"There isn't much else to do, is there," Lovino retorted, turning a question into a statement. His chest swelled and his pulse beat ferociously. Could he snatch Antonio for these few days, he would. Perchance it would still the ache distance had caused, if only a little. Honestly, he was quite sure Antonio would blindly spend the hours in Toulouse with him if he asked for it, but he wouldn't do that. Antonio was there to meet a friend he seldom saw anymore, and Lovino being there was just a coincidence.

In retrospect, Lovino could have sworn the time passing before another word was said was a whole eternity, and he had the time to get really cold during that eternity, sitting outside a hotel in Toulouse. The brick wall wasn't providing him with much warmth.

"Can I kiss you?" Antonio said in an unrecognisable voice; quiet, careful, uncertain and demanding at the same time. Lovino looked him straight in the eyes. _Yes._

"No." he stood up, huddled in his own arms. Antonio watched him from where he sat, then stood up as well.

"Lovino..." his voice was low, sounding tired after all these months. Or maybe just hours, because Lovino figured it must have been kind of late. He was somewhat tired himself, he realised, as he stifled a yawn. The streets were even emptier than before, and silence – to a certain extent, of course – lay like a cover over the sleeping city. Antonio reached out for him, fingers so delicate Lovino almost couldn't feel them on his cheek. Then an entire palm, coating his face with warmth. It slipped further back towards his neck, fingers nipping at hair as Antonio's hopeful, nearly apologising face came closer. His body too, and Lovino allowed connection between their torsos, as well as a second hand on his neck, before tilting hid head downwards. He saw their feet and the asphalt beneath it before he closed his eyes, and Antonio pulled back, bringing his hands to Lovino's shoulders instead. He pecked his head once, lightly, and then Lovino pushed him away, both of them standing on wobbly feet.

"It's cold. I'm going inside."

When the Italian entered the hotel room again, Francis and Gilbert were sitting on each bed, faces faintly red from laughing. The Frenchman looked up as Lovino entered, wiped a tear from his eye and stood. "Here's your room key," he handed Lovino a card, and for some reason which Lovino did know know nor care about, Gilbert broke into hysterical laughter once more, "You have your own room, it's..."

"Thank god." Lovino interrupted him, snatching the card from his hand. "Which is it?"

Francis' expression changed entirely, and he furrowed his brows when Antonio entered the room, hurrying past them to sit on one of the beds. He cleared his throat, "314, two doors to the left."

"Thanks, I'll pay you back later."

Lovino left without another word, shutting the door forcefully enough for one to be suspicious about his mood, and scattered into his own room. He squinted his eyes when he came inside, spotting the bed right ahead of him. Bending down, he pulled his shoes off, no energy left to untie the shoe-laces. Lovino felt a mixture of exhaustion and anger cramming him, but he did not know what he was angry about. Antonio? For what? Trying to kiss him wasn't even something Lovino needed to ponder in hindsight, because he found it easier to understand that wish rather than why he'd said no. He was, however, still rather upset with the entire situation, but why would reactions towards Antonio's sudden departure and reappearance suddenly bubble up within him like this? He should be happy to see the Spaniard, he told himself. Wasn't he?

He threw himself on the bed with a grunt and a long sigh, dozing off within only a few minutes.

* * *

_AN: Hrm. I quote: "[...] __school ends on Friday, so I'd expect Il Mio Canto Libero to be updated some time after that."_

_And I laugh. Ha ha._

_Um, usually when summer begins, you're overwhelmed with the realisation that you actually don't have shit to do. I took for granted this would happen to me once more, but instead my schedule got unexpectedly packed with events. First my friend dragged me along on a somewhat spontaneous trip to Stockholm, then there was work and sleepovers and what have you. I wish I wouldn't have made it sound as if I was going to update anytime soon, because then I wouldn't have rushed it. This chapter is rather important, and I'm afraid it didn't come out exactly the way I wanted it to. But you guys don't know how I originally imagined it, so you have nothing to compare it to. Haaaaaa. Hope you enjoyed!_


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